


Eyes Shut (and other metaphors)

by anopendoor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A few grand gestures abound, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Banter that might be hotter than sex, Ben becomes a poet, Ben is blind, Ben is kind of an asshole, Blindness, Disabled Character, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fic is told in POV of someone who isn’t blind, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Sex, HEA, How many ways can Ben say I love you without saying I love you?, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mild themes of mental health and abuse, Mutual Pining, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Physical Disability, Poetic love ballad, Rey loves to read, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Volunteer Reader Rey, blindfolded sex, but he has experienced a big trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anopendoor/pseuds/anopendoor
Summary: Rey volunteers at a rehabilitation facility to read to the blind. She’s loved reading and books for longer than she can remember. She finds that she loves reading to others even more so. However, she’s suddenly thrown into the headspace of trauma patient Ben Solo, who has a knack for upending everything she thinks she knows about books and the power of the written word…as well as a few other things.Rey volunteers to read to blind trauma patient Ben Solo. The ride is angsty, poetic, and filled with literary favorites like Dracula and Pride and Prejudice…and a whole bunch of other metaphors for falling in love.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 758
Kudos: 931
Collections: Ijustfellintothissendhelp





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! If you are here for the first time, or coming back I just want to say how grateful I am for your readership and for checking out my story. 
> 
> This story came about after I was inspired by many Pride and Prejudice parallels made by the fandom, the idiots to lovers trope, and the challenge to write a love story that expressed love and communication in a complex and poetic way.
> 
> This story is about a character with a disability (blindness). There are mentions of alcoholism, driving under the influence, mental health and past abuse. Please read with care if any of these elements may be triggering for you.
> 
> Thank you and I hope you enjoy this story.

Rey has always loved to read. Ever since she was a little girl, when all that was available at the home rec center were old novels like The Secret Garden or the third Harry Potter book, and a slew of Nancy Drew mysteries—her more specific favorites being volumes 7, 38, and 139. She excelled in her English classes and when she was old enough, spent hours in the school library checking out every book she could get her hands on.

So, when her college Psychology professor recommends that she start volunteering at a rehabilitation center to start networking for job opportunities once she completes her masters in the next coming months, she thinks it’s not such a bad idea. When she hears they’re looking for volunteers to read to their patients who are suffering from terminal blindness, she’s even more intrigued.

“It’s in Bethesda, I can get you an introduction with Amilyn Holdo, the head Psychologist there, it would definitely be an optimal opportunity.” Luke Skywalker says to her one day after class. “I know you had said you would be looking for work here in the States—”

“Yes.” She interrupts a bit eagerly before she remembers herself. “Sorry, yes. I do hope to stay here and start my career in America.”

She tramps down the thought of ever having to return to England, to that life and those memories that she couldn’t leave far enough behind her.

Luke nods. “Good, I’ll give her a call this week.”

“Thank you.” She says gratefully.

When Amilyn calls her that Friday to schedule a meeting, she doesn’t think she’s ever spoken to a more level-headed and kind-hearted person in her life. Yet another assurance that she was looking to enter the right profession.

They speak for over thirty minutes when Amilyn asks Rey if the volunteer position is something she would be interested in because ‘they could certainly use her’.

Rey can’t help but smile into the phone.

When she walks into the Ajan Kloss Rehabilitation Facility and meets Rose Tico, the head nurse on the floor, she’s once again floored by the kindness of everyone she’s encountered through this experience so far.

“You must be Rey Niima!” She says cheerily from the front desk when Rey walks out of the elevator on the third floor. “Welcome! Follow me and I’ll give you the tour.”

They start down the hall and enter a big open communal space. “This is sort of like the rec room where everyone can hang out and be more social. We have our own cafeteria area so that the patients don’t have to travel far to the main one.” Rey nods along as she walks through the room. There’s a television playing a little louder than normal in one corner with two couches facing it. Some tables are spread out around the room and a few patients are sitting about conversing quietly. She looks over at one table with a game Bananagrams spread out. A few bookcases are lining one wall. There’s a sign that says ‘For Volunteers’ and then another plaque with words written in braille.

“So, I know Amilyn said she told you that we’ll start you out with 2-3 patients. I know you said you planned on coming three times a week. Most volunteers read for an hour per patient, so if you want to spread that out across the three days you can. It’s really what you’re most comfortable with, how long you want to read for.” Rose prattles on as they walk down the hall. She points out the restroom and a few other smaller communal spaces.

“Oh, I love to read.” Rey supplies with a smile as they finish their loop around the floor and are back at the front desk area. “An hour sounds fine.”

Rose smiles sweetly at her. “Gosh, your accent is so pretty. I’m sure you’ll end up having to pick and choose your patients.”

Rey feels a blush form at the compliment. She’s not used to receiving such praise. “Thanks—uh, thank you.”

The shorter girl nods her head and goes back around the desk to a stack of files. “So, I’ve already pulled some patients that don’t have volunteers assigned yet. You can spend 20-30 minutes with each one, meet them, see if it’s a good fit. Most people choose to come here because they’re struggling to acclimate from when they had their sight to now learning how to live without it. Amilyn told me about your background, and it will definitely be helpful. A lot of times they just want someone new to talk to.”

Rose picks up the files and looks at Rey who nods. “Sounds great.”

-

Her first patient is an older woman named Maz who lost her vision due to glaucoma. She just recently lost all of her sight and has been at the facility for the last two weeks. Even though she has no use for them, she still wears her thick-lensed spectacles claiming she feels uncomfortable without them on.

She’s a real character, Rey quickly learns. When Rey introduces herself the first words out of her mouth are, “You know, I spent a whole summer in London with a man—he went by the nickname Codebreaker—if you can _just_ imagine.” Rey decides she can’t, but she’s sure if she ends up spending time with Maz, she will probably find out.

Rey meets Chewie next. He’s a tall, scraggly man with a beard he clearly hasn’t cared to trim in possibly over a decade. He doesn’t speak much and grunts most of his replies, but he tells her he used to read sports stats in the newspaper and still wants to do that to keep up with his old pool. He asks her to repeat herself a few times and, in the end, it leads to some long stretches of awkward silence. She suspects they may not be the best matchup.

Jyn Erso is a lovely young woman, maybe only a few years older than Rey. Her diagnosis is Retinitis Pigmentosa and she has been dealing with slowly losing her vision ever since she was a child. Now her progression has turned severe and she can only just barely make out light and shadow. Jyn requests if Rey would read Jane Austen to her in her lovely voice as she’s grown a sentiment for classic romance.

The day seems to be going quite well. Rose says she has one left for her to visit and she gives her a little forewarning of her last patient. “Ben’s a bit rough around the edges, but he was a pretty famous artist around the area—kind of a hotshot it seems like—and now after the accident, he’s completely blind. It says in his file he may eventually be able to see lights or some shapes, but he’ll never truly be able to see again. It’s…taken a toll on him. Maybe some time with a fresh presence will be good for him, but I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Rey nods primly before she walks into the room. It’s a corner room and a bit larger, there’s a bed pushed against the far side with a small living room area with a huge window overlooking the front courtyard.

When she walks further into the room, she sees him sitting there in a dark blue sweater and black jeans. There’s a cup of coffee on the table in front of him and a vintage dial radio. He doesn’t acknowledge her when she comes in.

When she nears, she notices the bandages wrapped around his head. His hair is long enough to brush past his ears and it’s wrapped securely under the gauze, curling a bit at the ends. The sweater pulls around his broad shoulders and when he takes a deep breath she watches as the air sucks through his prominent nose and then out through his mouth before it twists into a tight frown.

“Hello, Ben.” She says brightly. “I’m Rey, I’m one of the new volunteers here. It’s nice to meet you.”

He doesn’t respond, but his hand comes up to rest on the table in front of him and it’s curled into a fist.

“Would you be interested in having me read to you or update you on current events, maybe even the most current Twitter war? I’ve heard there’s been some drama going on with Banksy, as per usual.” She goes for a bit of humor, to maybe break through the grump in his visage, but it only makes him frown deeper.

He scoffs. “Couldn’t I just listen to an audiobook, or a podcast instead?” The snipe throws her off guard. Even though she was given a warning, he’s the first patient she’s encountered to be less than pleasant.

Rey shrugs, though she remembers he can’t see her. “I guess you could.” She surmises. “Or—if you’d prefer a time to just talk to someone…someone that isn’t a nurse or another patient or—”

“So, I should instead talk to someone who’s just looking to feel good about herself by reading stories to disabled people?” His tone is biting and even though most of his face is covered by the bandage around his eyes, she can see the way his lip’s downturn even more.

She’s affronted by his callousness. Even though she understands that he is going through a traumatic experience. She knows from her studies how some may cope with trauma after injury. She knows not to take this personally.

“If you want someone else, that’s perfectly understandable.” She says calmly. “Or even if you just want to be left alone—”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child, okay?” He bites and he sounds angry with her. His head turns away from her. She notices the way his ear peaks between the tufts of his hair and pushes petulantly against the gauze wrap. “You have no idea what this is like, so stop trying to psychoanalyze me. You have no idea what it’s like to suddenly be fucking blind, alright? I’m nothing now, no use to anybody—a fucking lost cause. I don’t want your pity.”

Rey chews her bottom lip, a force of habit for her whenever she disagreed with something. She should really just walk away, that’s what she’s been trained to do. Phycological therapists are not supposed to be riled by their patients.

But that last part just stuck with her and there’s something inside her that wants to help him _understand_.

“I know I’m not blind.” She says in a somewhat clipped tone. She knows that maybe this isn’t the best way of handling this. But she hasn’t gotten her license yet. “You also don’t know me, and since you don’t want assumptions made towards you, then I kindly ask that you don’t do the same to me. Equal footing and all that.” She watches him huff heavily through his nose. “Look, I’m here if you want someone to read you the daily news, or your favorite novel, or just talk about the bloody weather—if you want. But if you don’t, that’s fine too, I’ll still be around if you change your mind.”

And then she doesn’t let him snap or bark anything else at her before she heads for the door. He’s silent to her retreating form and she’s glad for it.

She thinks it’s more than likely that she won’t be visiting him again anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out as a fic where I was a writer without a beta and without many Reylo friends, and since then I have met so many amazing people, made so many amazing friends and wonderful beta’s who have helped me tell this story and the topic of disability with respect and care. 
> 
> I do not have first hand experience with blindness, and did a lot of research, but have also now consulted a few beta sensitivity readers since completing this fic. I researched visual injuries and trauma, as well as counseling. I apologize for any inaccuracies. I do not own these characters, nor the referenced novels, of course.
> 
> I did not expect the amazing, uplifting, and hopeful response for this fic—and I am so grateful to all the comments shared with me throughout. I hoped to share a story of Ben and Rey that while hopefully romantic, was also real. I took them on a journey and found myself pulled into it along with them. 
> 
> Thank you for reading ❤️


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note for Ben still being kind of a jerk... but like--isn't it more satisfying when they (eventually) become less of a jerk?
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments :) excited for where this fic is going.

Rey’s first official day is that Tuesday. When she exits the elevator, Rose is sitting there smiling at her. “You sure were popular, Missy.” 

Her eyebrows raise curiously as she approaches the front desk. “Oh?”

Rose’s smile widens. “You have three requests.” There’s a secret little flicker in her eye as she hands Rey a slip of paper with three names and their room numbers. “We do have a bookshelf in the common room with a good number of titles for volunteers to look through, but of course, you’re also free to bring your own.”

To answer her, Rey lifts her shoulder slightly to bring attention to the canvas tote bag hanging there. “I did bring a few…” She looks down and see’s Jyn’s name at the top. “I had a feeling Jyn would be one so I brought a few titles for her already.” Her eyes scan the next two names and her eyes widen. Maz Kanata is listed under Jyn and then there at the bottom is a name she definitely _hadn’t_ expected to see. 

Seeming to know what she is thinking, Rose chuckles. “I know, but I’m also not too shocked. You have that presence about you—that ability to win anybody over.”

Rey just nods still looking down at the list in a bit of disbelief.

“Here,” Rose says as she hands her another sheet of paper. “It’s a schedule for the week. We try and keep their routine somewhat organized. It helps them with their rehabilitation.” She explains. “Let me know if you ever need to change anything with the schedule, but it’s drafted around the hours you submitted.”

“Thanks,” Rey says softly before she looks down at the paper. She’d planned on coming in three times a week, Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Her two-weekday slots are two hours each, while Sunday she’s allotted four hours. 

“No problem, and thank you again for taking the time to do this. It really does make a difference.” Rose says kindly.

Rey walks down the hall and into the common room before she stops in front of the bookshelf for volunteers. She’s seeing Jyn for the first hour and already brought Pride and Prejudice for her, but she’s at a loss for what to bring for her other patient of the day.

Aside from getting snarky comments from Ben Solo, she has _no_ idea what he likes. She peers at the slew of titles in front of her. Maybe he wouldn’t want to read, maybe he just wants to talk, or complain, or yell at her. She wonders idly if it’s insensible of her to demand he be a bit nicer if he wants her to volunteer her time with him.

With a huff, she snatches up three titles without thinking further on it. 

-

When she knocks on Jyn’s door it’s already slightly open. There’s music playing from a glowing box on the table, but Jyn turns and smiles when she hears Rey come in. 

“Alexa, stop.” She says and the music cuts off. “Rey, is it four already?” She turns towards where the little box is and frowns. “I had an alarm set, but I am still getting used to this little gadget.” She motions towards the box. “I’m told modern technology has come a long way to help those with impaired senses, but I still have a complaint or two.”

Rey smiles. “I’m definitely not very tech-savvy. I’d be terrible with it.” She admits sheepishly. 

Jyn taps the top of the chair she’s standing by. “Come, sit. Do you want anything to drink?” She asks as she walks around to the little counter that has a pitcher of water on top of it.

“Oh, it’s okay, I can fetch it,” Rey says, but Jyn holds her hand up.

“No, please it’s fine. I’m supposed to be practicing.” And then she looks over at her and gives her a wry smile with a little wink.

Rey just nods again as she walks towards the table. “Okay, yes, then the water would be great, thanks.” She pulls the chair out and it scrapes along the linoleum floor. 

She watches as Jyn lifts her hand onto the counter and reaches out for the tray there. Once her fingers find the corner closest to the edge, she seems to be aware of the distance from there to the water pitcher. Rey watches with impressed eyes as she seamlessly pours two cups of water. 

When she walks over a few steps and reaches to place the cup on the table she stands up and says with a smile. “Voila!”

“Your practice has definitely been paying off,” Rey replies gratefully before she pulls her tote bag from her shoulder and places it on her lap. “So, I brought a couple of Austen novels with me. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to start with a specific one—” 

“Whichever is your favorite.” Jyn interrupts. “I’m ready to be transported to the Victorian English Countryside, please.” 

Rey fishes her well-read copy of Pride and Prejudice from her bag. And because she knows this novel like the back of her hand she begins as she flips to the first page. _“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”_

-

She closes the door to Jyn’s room behind her with a smile on her face. Rey had no idea how much she would enjoy reading to someone else in a setting like this, but it could be the fact that Jyn has a lot of opinions on old British society, as well as a great many theories. They had barely made it to chapter four within the hour. Jyn had declared outright that she knew Mr. Darcy to be the most devilishly handsome of the characters, for being so disagreeable. 

“It’s always the ones the mothers _hate_. Bad boys even back then, huh? Except they were much nicer with their words, ‘not at all worth pleasing’, do you think that translates to ‘douchebag’ in modern English?” Jyn snickers when they finish the chapter. ‘Alexa’ starts to buzz then, signaling the end of their hour. “Thank you so much, Rey. I know I’m going to enjoy your company these next few weeks.”

“I know I will too.” She replies smiling. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Jyn smiles. “Maybe we should start having tea. That’s a very British thing, isn’t it?”

As she walks down the hall to the corner where Ben’s room is, she starts to feel an undercurrent of nervousness. She tries to shake it off, but honestly, she has no idea what to expect. When she’d left after that first encounter, she’d been more than sure that Ben had no interest in her company. 

She stands in front of his door for a whole minute before she lets out a long exhale. She knocks strongly before she opens the door. 

Rey doesn’t enter right away, her head sort of peaks in but she doesn’t see him. “Hello?” She calls into the room to make her presence known. For a moment she tells herself maybe it was a mistake and he hadn’t meant to request her after all.

And then those thoughts are swatted away when she hears the gruff, “I’m in here.” There’s a tinge of sarcasm lacing his voice like he’s reminding her that there’s really nowhere else he could be.

She reminds herself that he’s dealing with the trauma of sudden blindness. He was an artist, and now all he sees is darkness. Even so, he is still kind of a prick.

Rey walks into the room and sees him lying on the couch. The bandages on his face make it even harder for her to read him. All she has to go off of is his mouth, and it’s turned down in its familiar frown.

There’s an armchair adjacent to the couch and Rey walks over to it before tentatively sitting down. 

Ben doesn’t move.

“So, I’m back.” She says thinly, but she’s at a loss for what to say to him. She thinks it might be better to let him take the lead.

“Do you plan on just sitting there in silence? Weren’t you volunteering here to read?” He shifts on the couch, and it’s almost laughable to watch him try and fit his extremely large frame across it. He’d been sitting the last time, but now that he’s stretched out, it’s clear that he’s well over six feet. One of his legs rests bent with his foot on the ground while his other lies diagonally across the cushions. His foot hangs off the corner of it. He looks uncomfortable, but Rey decides she doesn’t feel much pity for him.

“Well, is there anything, in particular, you’d like me to read?” She figures it would be polite of her to ask, even if he seems incapable of civility.

“I never really read much as a kid.” He says plainly. “Thought it was boring and a waste of time.”

Rey makes a face before she can help it. “As someone who loves to read that’s…slightly upsetting to hear.”

He huffs and crosses his arms. “Well, the jokes on me now. Even if I wanted to—now I can’t.” His tone is brusque and chilling. The darkness in his sense of humor isn’t surprising, but she isn’t sure how she should react to it.

She decides to ignore it. “I grabbed a few options from the shelf, we can see if any are of interest to you.” She pulls the three novels she chose impulsively from her tote. “Alright, your options are Animal Farm, Dracula, or The Hunger Games.”

Ben is quiet for a moment and then he sniffs. “I’m sensing a theme with these books. Did you skip lunch or something today?”

His comment makes her freeze. He wouldn’t know, because he doesn’t know her. He doesn’t know there was once a time when she did skip meals, not because she didn’t want them, but because they weren’t available to her. And she _knows_ he doesn’t know this, but it doesn’t stop the cold feeling from seeping into her chest and clenching around her heart.

“Hello?” He calls out almost sarcastically. It breaks her out of her own personal hellscape.

“I can give you a mini synopsis of the three and then you can choose.” She says cooly and she ignores his comment. “Animal Farm is a political metaphor about a group of animals who take control of the farm they live on from their power-hungry farmer, lots of symbolism, lots of hidden meaning. Dracula is a classic tale of the famous vampire and it follows along through journals and letters of other characters, and The Hunger Games is about a dystopian society where children are forced to fight to the death as a broadcasted sport.”

Ben is silent again for a long while, and his silence now makes Rey uneasy. She starts preparing herself for another awful comment from him when he speaks. 

“So, you meet me for ten minutes and you think the kind of books I like are either fucked up animal metaphors or murder. Fuck, even child murder.” But then he laughs. It’s not a big laugh, more like a breathy, disbelieving snort. His hand has come up to grab at his chin and he pulls the skin down and away, stretching his jaw. “I’m going to veto child murder—just not my thing. So out of the other two, which is the least fucked up?”

Rey thinks about his question for a bit. She hadn’t done it on purpose, but now that she looks down at the titles, she does notice they all gravitate towards disturbing themes of some type of violence. “Um…I guess we would be comparing real-life fucked up to fantasy fucked up.”

His hand that was on his chin now points up into the air and he flicks his wrist in a sort of affirmative gesture. “Real life sucks, guess it’s vampires then.” 

Without a word, she opens Dracula. She reads for almost twenty minutes straight. With the bandages over his eyes and his knack for laying completely still and not reacting at all, she isn’t even sure if he’s been listening let alone still awake.

“Are you asleep?” She asks frankly when she finishes chapter one. 

He doesn’t answer right away, which makes her think she’s bored him to unconsciousness, but then he abruptly says. “Nope,” and he accentuates the ‘p’ with an obnoxious smack of his lips.

Rey is on the path to becoming a psychological therapist. This is what she wants to do. She wants to help people, and she finds that a lot of people really open up to her and like her. She finds that she has patience for most and almost all people.

But something about Ben Solo is really pushing her limit. 

His response makes her pause, makes her want him to…elaborate.

“What do you think so far?”

Ben crosses his arms over his chest. His foot, that’s dangling on the edge of the couch, bounces. “It’s…pretty boring. I don’t really give a fuck about this dude who’s clearly about to walk into Dracula’s evil lair and get eaten.”

Rey can’t help but bristle a bit at that. “It’s only just the first chapter. The author is setting the scene…”

“But it’s _so_ obvious.” He cajoles like the predictability of it all weakens the integrity of the story. “And then almost five minutes are spent talking about dogs howling. I _fucking_ get it. It’s _scurrrry_.” He warbles his voice as he says the word for dramatic effect. 

Rey rolls her eyes, almost wishing he weren’t blind so he could see it. Then she corrects herself for thinking such an awful thing. She sighs, “I’m going to keep reading now.”

She opens her mouth to begin, but right before she can get a word out, Ben does the most obnoxious thing yet.

He howls.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! The response to the first two chapters has been majorly appreciated and I'm excited to keep sharing this story with you!
> 
> Kudos to you(!) if you can spot the HP reference 😊
> 
> Here's more character development before we start to approach our first bit of angst 😳.

Maz has only requested Rey once a week on Sundays. Currently, she’s having Rey update her on local news stories from her favorite periodical, _The Resistance_. 

So far, they’ve encountered a graphic tale about two battling underground spice rings in Philadelphia—both raging about who has the better supply of _cumin_ , a slightly disturbing report of a woman who was charged with manslaughter for murdering her husband and trying to hide the evidence by feeding him to their 6-foot python named Jabba, and a truly riotous telling of two twelve-year-olds who steal a neighbors vehicle and almost make it to Scotland before anyone notices—they crash the car into a tree and it results in a possum passing from blunt force trauma. Rey is almost wishful that Maz will ask for the political segments instead. However, they may not be any better.

“How has your first week been, dear?” She asks as she crochets. Maz has been working on a hat for Chewie. It’s one of the few hobbies she’s been practicing for so long she swears she can do it in her sleep _or_ with her eyes closed. Maz chuckles at her own jokes. Rey thinks it’s adorable.

Rey lets out a breath. “It’s been good. Jyn is really lovely, and we have a similar joy for Victorian romance novels. Ben has been…well I'm not sure if interesting is the right word to describe him.”

She watches as Maz nods slowly, almost knowingly. “He does seem like a character,” she says, and there’s a hint of something in her tone enunciated by the small smile the turns up at the corner of her mouth. “What have you been reading to him?”

Rey sighs. “We’re reading Dracula. However, I’m sure it wouldn’t matter what I read. He would be insufferable no matter what the material was—sorry.” She quickly amends. “I don’t mean to complain. I know I really shouldn’t. I know he’s having a hard time adjusting. I almost wonder if I’m making it worse.”

Maz shakes her head. “My dear, I doubt you could be making it any worse. The poor boy has already met rock-bottom. Now, he needs to learn how to pick himself back up. You’re doing him a favor by even sticking around and tolerating him with his childlike attitude!” She coughs suddenly as if the effort has taken the breath from her. It comes from deep in her chest. It makes Rey look over at her.

“Are you alright?” She asks, concerned.

Maz waves her off. “I’m fine, dear. This nasty cough is something that’s evolved with age. _Never_ grow old. Fight against it with every tooth and nail you have.”

Rey smiles at the small woman. “So, do you want to hear about the drug bust in Canto Bright? Big scandal it seems, and they found a whole pack of illegal hyenas in the drug lords penthouse!”

“Pft,” Maz huffs. “That’s _nothing_ compared to my months stay in Takodana. I was the first and only Black go-go dancer there at the time. You should’ve seen the line out the door…lots of hotshots with lots of secrets. I’ll tell you about it sometime…they went wild for Ms. Maz, mmhmm.”

Rey puts her phone down and looks at the woman currently still crocheting like they’re talking about what’s on the lunch board that day. “That already sounds much more interesting than whatever this article has to say about hyenas.” She says, prompting her to go on.

Maz just laughs. “Honey, Sunday morning wouldn’t be able to _handle_ it.”

Okay, then.

-

Rey goes to the cafeteria area in the common room and grabs a coffee before she makes her way to Ben’s corner. 

They’d barely made it through half of chapter two after the first visit. Ben hadn’t been able to keep his irritatingly opinionated mouth shut.

When she makes it to his door, knocks, and then turns the knob, she is met with resistance. Rey is pretty sure patients aren’t allowed to have locked doors. Panic begins to bubble in her chest, and she thinks something bad has happened before the doorknob turns and swings open. 

Rey’s eyes look up in shock to see Ben standing there looking down to where he must think her face is. It’s a bit lower, closer to her chest. She feels anxious under his covered gaze, even though he can’t actually see her.

“What are you doing?” She asks alarmed when he just stands in the doorway. His shoulders are slightly hunched, and he looks almost menacing with his towering height hulking over her.

Then, suddenly, he’s stepping back dramatically and motioning her inside. “Welcome to my house! Please, enter freely by your own free will!”

Rey stares at him. Her mouth drops slightly. “Are you quoting the book?”

“Come, enter freely and safely!” He says loudly, and his hand reaches out and feels for where he thinks her right arm is. She holds the coffee cup that’s in her left hand out of harm's way of his massive paw. He finds her elbow and she is not prepared for the tingling sensation that runs through her when his hand quickly slides down her forearm and grabs her hand before lifting it and shaking it firmly. Not so hard as to make her wince like in the book, but still staggeringly shocking all the same.

This is the first time they’ve touched, and it really shouldn’t be as big a deal as it seems to Rey, but she feels a blush rise to her cheeks. 

She stares at how big his hand is and how it completely engulfs her own.

“What is happening?” She mumbles as he slowly pulls her into the room. 

“You’re my guest.” He replies in a low and dulcet tone as his hand falls away. Her skin still buzzes from where his fingers held hers. That hand then lands lightly on her shoulder as he pushes her into the room. Hyperaware of him now, she feels the heat of his palm through her shirt.

She can sense that he’s using her as a guide to get back to the table. He’s still working on navigating by himself and learning to function without his sight. She curiously wonders how long it took him to make it to the door…

When they make it to the table, he continues, “Pray thee, sit, relax however you please.” He says in a mock British accent. It’s got a bit of Cockney in it, and it makes her shake her head in disbelief. She isn’t sure if this is him poking fun at the novel, or her, or both. If she’d felt like they were on a higher level of an evolved sort of friendship, she might feel differently. However, as far as she is aware, Ben is still a raging arsehole, and this only confirms it. 

“Your accent is terrible.”

He sits in the chair across from her and folds his hands on the table, staring towards her—or she imagines he is through the bandages that cover his eyes. She, once again, feels unsettled under his sightless stare. 

Ben breaks the silence and rocks back in his chair. His hand comes up and gestures to her in an outward motion. “I’m ready to hear more about Jonathan and his soon to be terrible Airbnb experience.”

As Rey reads through chapter three, it abruptly occurs to her that aside from the varying themes of blood and gore in the novel, there are highly explicit sexual undertones as well. It becomes even more apparent, _especially_ when read aloud. She wants to slap herself for this lack of foresight. Aside from the fact that she and Ben have an already…tumultuous relationship, she is now throwing gothic porn into the mix, and—Rey really just wishes she’d read him The Hunger Games, or even Harry Potter for that matter. Something other than this.

_“I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the super-sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in languorous ecstasy and waited…waited with a beating—”_

“Okay, I have to stop you there.” Ben interrupts and, when she looks up, the heat already blasted on her cheeks, she frowns when she sees the smirk plastered smugly on his stupid mouth. “It was already one thing to hear you say the word voluptuousness.” He chuckles after he says the word. “And I know my other senses are getting better, but I can _hear_ the mortification in your voice.” 

Rey sighs at having been found out. “Well, he’s about to get cockblocked—or bit-blocked…oh whatever.” Ben is outright laughing now. “Are you really going to be such a child that you can’t sit through a sexual passage in a novel?” She’s deflecting, she knows. She also knows that it will only get _much_ worse, and she isn’t sure if _she_ will be able to continue on with it.

Ben’s shoulders shake through the rest of his tremors as he voices her current concern. “I don’t think _I’m_ the one in fear of being labeled childish.” His arms are crossed over his chest again, and he’s leaning back in his chair. His legs are so long that when he crosses his ankles, his feet are only maybe an inch away from hers even though they are folded securely under her chair.

She checks her watch to find that they’ve actually gone over by five minutes, and usually, she would at least get to a good stopping point, but today she allows the excuse for her escape.

“Our time is up.” She notes, and when she looks up, he’s mockingly pouting at her. She bristles in response. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

She gets up then, and the chair scrapes loudly beneath her. Rey almost swears she can feel the sound grating against her skin. She stuffs the dreaded book back into her tote bag and heads for the door.

“I look forward to it, sweetheart.” He calls from where he sits, and she actually growls when she hears him chuckle before she shuts the door harshly behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having SO much fun creating Ben's own sparknotes of Dracula lol. The 'you're my guest' line is actually in the novel, and an obviously great parallel-it couldn't be left out!
> 
> Maz's characterization is inspired by an amazing woman who had an extensive feature in HONY (Humans of New York) this year- Stephanie (or more famously, Tanqueray). I definitely recommend you check her out if you haven't heard her story. It's _definitely_ something _The Resistance_ would feature in their periodical!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _sigh_ , I know this is probably a stressful week for many - me included. I've been focusing on writing as a means of distraction.
> 
> I apologize in advance for our first angst stop, but I have 5 written up and will be reviewing before planning to post by Friday. So the pain shouldn't be too long endured.
> 
> Note for slight themes of depression.
> 
> I hope you all are staying safe and well out there! <3

They continue to read Dracula for the next few weeks. Overtime, Rey has begun to change her tone of voice to match how she assumes some of the characters would speak. She notices Ben’s lip quirk when her voice turns burly as she reads for some of the male characters. Rey pats herself hypothetically on the back for finally making him smile for once. Ben, a character himself that she still hasn’t quite figured out, is often dour or pissed or just being a right arsehole. 

It's not often that she's capable of honestly humoring him. However, it’s on one of her visits on a Sunday that he appears to be in one of his moods. 

“Good morning, Ben,” she greets brightly, only to be met with a big exhale through his nose and then silence. 

She has learned from observation to not prod at him when he’s like this. Usually, she will just sit down in her usual chair and open Dracula to where they last left off. She begins to read for a bit and makes it a few pages before he grunts in frustration. It’s the sort of sound that’s meant to be heard. It's the sort of sound that's meant to make someone pause.

So, she does. “Is something wrong?” She decides to ask, but maybe it would have been better to just have left it well enough alone.

Ben sighs again from where he lies on the couch. “I’m not in the mood to listen to this bullshit today,” he grouses. “I don’t really care to hear any more about Lucy’s sleepwalking or how Mina feels about it. It’s so fucking bland.” He almost shouts as his body twists on the couch like he’s fidgety and uncomfortable. 

It’s like his whole body is pouting.

“Okay, I can stop. Is there something you wanted to talk about?” She asks calmly, and it seems to be the thing that sets him off. 

Ben stills on the couch. His covered eyes look up to the ceiling. “What are you even doing here?” He asks almost accusingly.

Rey blinks in confusion. She isn’t sure as to why his annoyance is directed at her, but she doesn’t think to analyze it. “I thought I was reading to you.”

Those are, once again, not the words he wants to hear, and his frustration is visible. “Yeah, well, I don’t need your fucking charity.” He snaps.

He’s much feistier today than usual. It makes Rey wonder if something has happened. She closes the book. “That’s not what’s going on here.” She tries to reason. It hadn’t been since the first time they’d met when he’d said something along these lines. When he accused her of being there only for the sake of making _her_ feel good about herself. Even when Ben had his moods, it was often self-deprecating. This time though, he is projecting.

Ben sits up and rests his elbows on his knees. He’s grown a bit of stubble since she first met him. It appears he’s unable to grow a full beard, and his facial hair is shaped more like a goatee, but it’s not unattractive on him. 

She shakes that errant thought away.

He laughs, and it’s laced with acidity. “Really?” From his tone, she knows it’s hypothetical. “There’s literally nothing else you could be doing on your Sunday afternoon than sit here and read books to a bunch of blind disabled people?” He spits the last words out like he can’t believe he’s referring to himself like he hates being reminded of it. “Fuck.” He hisses. “It’s just so fucking _sad_.” He criticizes, and his head cocks over to her, mocking her. 

His verbal attacks make her sit up straighter. She reminds herself not to get worked up by it. She thinks about her counseling training. “Ben, if you would like some time for yourself, I can leave. We can pick up another day—”

He growls loudly, rudely interrupting her. “Why are you here?” He asks again, and it’s harsher than before. “Why—the _fuck_ —do you come back?”

His question is filled with exasperation and disbelief. It screams, ‘I’m hurt, I’m broken, and you can’t help me, so stop trying’.

Rey steadies herself as she looks straight at him, right where his eyes should be. “I enjoy reading to you.” She says lightly, but it seems to only anger him more.

His hand raises slightly, and he gestures to her as a way to accentuate his next words. “No, you don’t. You’re just holding on to this idea that you’ll fix me by sitting there and reading your silly stories. You want me to be nice and agreeable—you want me to forget that I’ve been punished with this fucking bullshit. You come in here—trying to be cute, all agonizingly positive—but it won’t do anything. I’m fucking blind—I can’t _fucking_ see anymore, not ever. It’s not going to get better by listening to you read a fucking stupid book.” His voice has slowly risen with each word he gets out. She can see the stiffness in his jaw, the anger that holds firm, and ticks in aggravation. “You need to open your fucking eyes, Rey.”

“I can understand that you’re going through a rough adjustment—”

“No.” He sneers, his finger points at her now. “Don’t even try and act as if you get it. For years I had this fucking—amazing life. I had an _amazing_ life. I had found my purpose, and I was fucking good at it. If you’d known me before—” He pauses and shakes his head. “You’d probably think I was an asshole, maybe you’d hate me…maybe some rebellious part of you would want to fuck me.”

His unguarded thoughts make her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. Her eyes widen in shock.

“But now…fuck, now I’m just fucking nothing. There’s nothing about me that should make you want to just sit here and take it. It’s almost like you’re a masochist or something. You get off on reminding me how fucking miserable I am, how my life will never be the same…”

Those last few sentences make her go rigid in her seat. She’s, usually, a calm person. She’s able to diffuse situations like these. She’s able to push away the stress of her job and handle trauma—anger like Ben’s. But once again, something about Ben has all her calming phrases, all her meditative inner monologues, all of her bloody _Zen_ techniques flying out the window.

“I don’t know how to get this into your self-deprecating, thick skull of yours, but I don’t know how else to tell you that I’m here because I like sitting here and arguing with you about bloody Vampires! I—yeah you’re a complete arsehole sometimes—most times, but you also are actually interested in the novel—I can tell.”

She knows in the way that he asks questions about the characters, as he thinks up assumptions of what will happen next. Yes, Lucy can be a bit droll, and her sleepwalking narrative is a bit drawn out, but he’s obviously intrigued by where her character is going. Rey thinks of how she can explain all of this to him, how she can get it through to him that she actually enjoys spending her time with him, that she enjoys being in their own little world for just a few hours a week. 

It’s the first time these thoughts fly across her consciousness, but she’s too worked up to think very hard on them. 

Her time at the rehab center has been, currently, the only time in her life when she hasn’t felt the anxiety of what she will do once she graduates, or what to do once she goes home after class or work or the facility. She doesn’t worry about how she will ultimately find herself curled in a ball in her bed, reading whatever novel she can get her hands on, as she tries with all her might to escape the loneliness she feels day in and day out. 

How can she make him understand that, yes, she could be doing loads of other things? She keeps herself busy always. She keeps herself almost insane with work so that she doesn’t have to think of what she’s left without at the end of the day. And the only time when she’s felt relaxed is when reading, and now, the only time she’s hasn’t been bombarded with her underlying fears of abandonment is when she’s reading aloud to someone else—when she’s sharing her passion with someone else.

If she were to delve a little deeper into that thought, she’d realize it wasn’t so much the act of reading but to _whom_ she was reading.

Each patient is different. Maz ends up telling her more stories about herself than Rey spends reading. Jyn likes to drift away into the fairytale and allow Rey to read her romantic prose, but Ben is different. He challenges her and always has something to say, and it’s been the most invigorating--and albeit infuriating--experience. She’s actually excited about her volunteer visits each week. She’s found herself at work at the café, daydreaming about what they’ll talk about, whether it’s plotting the timeline for when they’ll next see Jonathan or Dracula, or how much longer Lucy can sleepwalk before she walks herself off a bloody cliff.

Rey had thought they had evolved into an easygoing partnership. She’d thought they were almost even…friends. 

Ben is silent through her diatribe, maybe even a little shocked himself at the rise in her temper. She’s always so put together, no matter how hard he pushes her.

“Look I—know you’re pissed. You’ve had an awful thing happen to you. I know I can’t relate, but I can tell you that it won’t get better if you choose to let the anger consume you. You can do it in a number of ways…but you can also _let me help you_.” Her voice is soft. It almost trembles. “I want to.” She whispers. If anything, she knows what it’s like to be alone, and she knows what it’s like to try and get through it on her own. She also knows that it doesn’t have to be that way. “You’re not alone, Ben.”

Ben sniffs as he lets her words hang in the air. “Yes, yes I am.” He says roughly. “And as for what I want? Well, I want my sight back, and you can’t give it to me, so you should just stop.” He clips before turning his head away from her.

Her eyes drift down to see both of his hands clench into fists on top of his legs. 

The silence between them hovers like a rain cloud. 

She decides that will be all for today as she puts the book away. When she gets up, he doesn’t say anything else, just keeps staring off to the side, away from her. She doesn’t say goodbye as she walks towards the door. She checks the clock on the wall and notices it’s hardly been twenty minutes. 

Rey inhales a shaking breath before she opens the door to his room and leaves without another word. 

-

Rose is there at the front desk when Rey walks past to head to the elevators. She notices the look on her face and calls her over. 

Rey tries to stifle the emotions and the impending tears begging to fall as she tries to smile at the nurse. 

Rose gives her an understanding look. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you came in today. Ben got a pretty bad prognosis earlier. He was basically told that any hope he had of regaining his sight was pretty much lost. The surgery they performed they deemed unsuccessful. The damage was too severe. I’m sorry you went in there without knowing. He can get in a really bad headspace, especially when he’s battling his demons.”

Rey shrugs as her lips thin in an attempt to hold it together. “I don’t usually let this stuff get to me.” She warbles, and her eyes flick upward as she takes a deep breath.

The smaller woman nods and lays a hand on her arm. “It’s totally okay if it does. You can take a break from Ben if you want. You are a volunteer, and we care about your mental health just as much as our patients.”

Rey smiles or tries to. “I’ll think about it. I probably just need some time today. I’ll think I’ll head out early.”

“Of course,” Rose says, and she smiles kindly. 

As Rey enters the elevator, she allows a few tears to fall as she descends the three floors to the lobby. 

Should she take a day off? If anything, so she can give Ben some space. Maybe Finn has an extra shift open that day that she can take, just so she has something to take her mind off of everything. 

Rey wipes the tears hastily from her eyes as the elevator doors open. She isn’t watching for anyone waiting to get on as she exits, and she runs into something sturdy. Suddenly, the smell of old leather fills her nostrils.

“Oh, excuse me.” Rey pardons and she glances up to see kind, yet tired eyes looking down at her. 

“No problem, Kid.” The man says before he lets out an exhale through his nose. “One of those days huh?” He says, and it’s not so much a question, but an affirmation. 

Rey just nods, unsure if she can trust her voice not to break.

“Yeah, for me too.” He mumbles, and then he side-steps away from her and into the elevator.

Another tear escapes her as she thinks about Ben—who has had more than his fair share of terrible days. 

He said he wants her to stop.

It’s probably best if she honors his wishes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) if you need a hug. I know I need one - and Ben definitely needs one 😢


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos from the last chapter and for sticking with this! I promise it'll start to get juicier soon. I'm actually impressed with my attempt at slow burn!

“So, how has the volunteer stuff been going?” Finn asks as he wipes some of the remaining water droplets from the freshly cleaned mugs before placing them on the shelf.

Rey looks over at him from the register and shrugs. “It’s been good.” She says before she waves the next customer forward.

Once she’s rung up their order, she looks back at her best friend. Finn is fiddling with the espresso machine behind her. “I thought you were really excited about it. Reading is like your all-time favorite thing. If it were a living and breathing person, you would jump out in front of a bus to save it. You would bake it cookies every day. If it fell and skinned its knee, you'd be there in the next second with a bandage and antiseptic.”

“Alright, Smart-Arse.” Her smile cracks and reaches her eyes as she shakes her head at him. “And it’s been great. I’ve really enjoyed my experience.”

Finn hums as he works. “Then why aren’t you there today and why did you pick up an extra shift instead?”

He was always very astute, always very in tune with her emotions. Finn was her first and best friend in D.C. ever since they met in their freshman dorm of undergrad. They were even roommates the summer before her Master’s program started, but when she was accepted, she was also offered student housing for an astounding rate. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. However, the biggest downside was that she now lived in a studio apartment by herself. It allowed for her inherent struggle with loneliness and abandonment to thrive full force.

Finn offered to let her come back and stay with them whenever she wanted, but he had a new roommate Jannah, who was absolutely lovely, but Rey always felt like it would be too imposing.

Plus, she is an adult, and she should be able to live by herself like any stable adult.

Rey sighs. “I have one patient who's been going through a rough time. He’s lost his sight due to a tragic accident, so it’s a very sudden trauma. It’s taking him time to adjust.”

Finn hums. “That sounds tough. I couldn’t imagine going through something like that.”

She nods absently. “I just—I don’t know what to do. We were doing so well in the last few weeks. I honestly thought he was doing much better, but the bad news he just got this week changed everything. He was like a different person. He was a bit mean in his pain.” Rey fiddles with the keychain that hangs from the key in the register. “I was lost on how to comfort him.”

“I know this is your passion and all, but do you think it’s a good idea to go into something that’s also causing you so much stress?” Finn asks concerned. “I mean, you’ve never skipped out on a commitment—especially not for something as big as your future career.”

She knows it’s only because he cares, but she feels a little indignant because he doesn’t understand, not really.

Rey looks at her friend. “I’m tougher than I look.” She defends. “Rose just suggested we take a pause, and I agreed with that decision.”

Finn holds both his hands up in surrender. “I never said otherwise. I just worry about you, Peanut.”

And now Rey feels a little guilty. “I know, and I do appreciate it.” She’s quiet as she thinks about her decision to skip today. “I probably should have gone today. I don’t know what it is about Ben Solo, but I do let him get to me.” She looks over at Finn a little helplessly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not very good at this—not cut out for it.”

Finn shakes his head. “No, no that’s not what I meant. Rey, you’re one of the best people I know. You’re one of the least selfish people I’ve ever met. You see the good in anyone no matter who they are or what they might do out of pain—and that’s a rare thing.” Finn walks over and rests a hand on her shoulder. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their therapist.”

Rey looks over at her best friend and she’s brimming with emotion. “Thanks, Finny.”

Finn pulls her into a hug. “Anytime, Peanut.” He gives her a squeeze and then he asks, “Besides, I have been wondering, is Ben Solo hot?”

She pulls away and smacks him on the shoulder, rolling her eyes through his snickering. 

-

When she walks into the Common room on Thursday, she’s shocked to see Ben sitting there at a table. She’s even more shocked to see him sitting there with Maz. She’s too distracted staring over at them that she completely walks into someone standing by another table, nearly knocking them over.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I should be watching where I’m going.” Rey says apologetically as the body she walks into stumbles. She turns her head to see a man with perfectly coifed curls and sunglasses on, and his square jaw whips into a smile. His hands come out around her shoulders to steady them both. 

The man’s smile widens further as he rights himself. “Not a problem. If it makes you feel any better, it happens a lot here.” He jokes suavely in a smooth and flirtatious tone. “You know, when you’ve lost one sense, the others are just that much stronger.” He pauses for a moment as he takes a long inhale. “Jasmine and geranium rose?” He speculates, and he cocks his head like he’s thinking on it further. “I’m guessing you’re a brunette with dazzling hazel eyes and a knee-weakening smile.”

His words have a blush rising to her cheeks due to his forwardness before she peers at him suspiciously. “Are you messing with me?”

The man laughs, and then his hand lifts to his shades before he pulls them off. The cornea’s in both his eyes are clouded over in a thick white hue, but with the way he carries himself, she wouldn’t have been able to guess.

“I’m Poe Dameron.” He says as he holds out his other hand for her to take. “And I’m just that good.” He says with a smirk.

“Poe, stop flirting with the volunteers. You’ve already been warned too many times.” Maz calls from her table. 

Rey’s eyes shift over to the short woman, and then her eyes land back to Ben. He’s sitting next to her very rigidly. His lips shift agitatedly under his teeth before settling in a frown. 

When was Ben Solo ever _not_ in a foul mood?

Poe just shrugs, the shoulders of his leather jacket hike up to his neck. “I’m just introducing myself Mazzy, besides, you know I only have eyes for you.”

“That is a terrible joke—you’re lucky I don’t come over there and smack you! I also told you _never_ to call me that awful nickname.” She says sternly. “You’re a damn rascal…” She mutters before she turns back to Ben and seems to go back to whatever it is she’d been saying to him. 

The first half of Rey’s volunteer time on Thursday’s consists of her hanging around the common area and keeping patients’ company or helping them with anything they may need assistance with. Ben usually never leaves his room and so she’s never seen him in the common areas until today.

“…and you are?” Poe prompts, bringing her attention back to him. 

Rey returns to herself, and with a start, she takes his outstretched hand. “Rey Niima.” She says politely. “Are you…a patient here?” He seems to be well-known at the facility, but Rey has never seen him before.

“Nah, I used to be, but then I got really good at everything, and they let me loose out into the wild.” Poe wiggles his brows. “Now I just come back every now and then and volunteer myself. I help with the encouragement department.” 

Rey smiles bemusedly, given her first impression of him. “That’s really considerate of you.” She says with a tinge of sarcasm, and it makes the expression on Poe’s face light up in intrigue.

“Rey, honey,” Maz calls out to her from her table. “I need you to back me up here. Ben is being a real sour puss.”

She glances between Maz and Ben. There’s a part of her that thinks she’d be purposefully walking into a lion’s den if she goes over there. Ben does not appear to want her to approach, and Maz is continuing to talk and crochet, acting as if she hasn’t noticed the tension.

“When her Majesty calls.” Poe jokes as he bows towards Maz.

Rey gives him a tight smile before she excuses herself. She walks, slowly, over to Maz, and pulls the chair out beside her. As she sits, she notices the remnants of a crumpled Styrofoam cup on the table by Ben’s gigantic hand. Yet another sign that she probably shouldn’t have come over.

“Sounded like you needed a rescue,” Maz grumbles as she hooks her crochet needle through a loop and expertly stitches. 

Rey blinks at the small woman. “You mean you didn’t actually need my help?” She asks, and her eyes glance at Ben, sitting there still as stone.

Maz chuckles at Rey. “Nah, Dear. You know, Ben has been keeping me company all this week. But he’s very cynical of my storytelling. I could use your back up with that.”

She’s still starring at Ben when she says, “Yes, Ben can be a bit critical most times.” 

The thin line at his mouth does not move.

“You should have heard the way he trashed my exhibitionism story at the National Mall. Thinks I made the whole thing up. It was the seventies, for crying out loud!”

“I never said I thought it wasn’t true.” He grumbles.

“You were rude _and_ skeptical.” Maz refutes with a disproving shake of her head. 

It’s oddly…cute—their dynamic. Rey smiles as they continue to grumble at each other. 

“I, personally, loved the stories about your excursions to the beaches in Delaware.” Rey interrupts their squabble. “I’ve never been to the beach,” she admits.

“You’re not missing much,” Ben replies instantly, and there’s a bitterness to his expression.

Rey lets out a small, exasperated exhale. “You would be someone who hates the beach, and sun, and fun things.” 

“While you’re here, Dear, you’ll have to make it to one. Assateague is a magical island. That’s where I skinny-dipped with the wild horses—not to mention I had a stallion of my own with me…” Maz interjects with a wistful fondness.

Rey smiles at the thought. “That sounds—”

“Were you sick on Tuesday?” Ben asks abruptly, breaking the conversation between Rey and Maz.

Rey blinks as she turns to look at Ben and the sudden shift in topics. “I had to cover a shift for a friend at the café where I work.” She lies, and it feels strange on her tongue.

A muscle in Ben’s jaw ticks as he considers her words. After a while, he just says, “Oh.”

“You know, I was a server once, long ago.” Maz cuts in as she continues to seamlessly crochet. She continues to ignores the obvious stiltedness between the two people sitting astride her. “Back in my go-go days, men would line up at the bar to watch me shake my ass above them. They opened their mouths like starving dogs, waiting for me to pour the vodka straight down their throats. You bet they were imagining it as something else I was pouring for them!”

“Jesus,” Ben mutters, and Rey can hear the smile that’s desperate to wrench through his brooding façade. When she looks over at him, true to her assumptions, his smile is toothy and not at all like the smirks she’s been privy to these last few weeks. It’s gone quicker than she can blink, folded back under the thin line of his stoic lips.

But Rey finds she’s smiling too, and it stays as Maz continues on about one fella, in particular, Justin, and his addiction with slipping crisp twenty-dollar bills under the straps of her bikini bottoms. Rey only notices the blush by the way the tips of Ben’s ears redden. They hardly peak out over the gauze of his bandages, but the bright red coloring is there. Her smile widens as she presses her knuckles against her cheek and feels the heat there as well. 

Twenty minutes later, Ben excuses himself to go back to his room. Rey is not sure what overcomes her—maybe it’s the fact that the last twenty minutes have been such a contrasting interaction since they last saw each other—and she wants to try and talk to him and settle the turmoil from the week before. She thought to give him space by not coming in on Tuesday. She was under the impression that he truly didn’t want her to visit him anymore, but when he’d asked her why she didn’t show up on Tuesday it niggled at that little seed of hope in her gut. 

Maybe he still wants her to read to him after all. 

She offers to walk him back to his room, and he doesn’t decline it. He brought his cane with him this time, so he’s able to go on his own. Rey lets the thought that he’s accepted her company as a positive affirmation to her musings. 

As they slowly walk down the hall, Rey chews her bottom lip, unsure how to start the conversation. 

Luckily for her, Ben does it for them. “I almost thought I scared you away.” He says as he taps the cane from side to side. 

Rey glances over at him and inspects his profile. The bridge of his nose is much more pronounced from the side. His features are angular and asymmetric, but from this view of him, the fluorescent lights from the ceiling glow down upon him. It basks him in an unconventionally ethereal light.

She catches herself staring and turns her head away. She hears Ben inhale sharply through his nose as she says, “I don’t spook easy.”

Ben huffs a laugh at that. “Oh, I know.” He says simply, and they continue down the hall. “I wasn’t trying hard enough to piss you off.”

“Oh, you piss me off plenty.” Rey jokes with a smile. “But I don’t let my judgments get in the way of my commitments.”

“That’s very honorable of you,” Ben replies as he swings his cane out and taps a chair in the hall. “I’m working on that myself.”

“What?” Rey asks, confused.

Ben shrugs. “Being less of a jackass. I had an unexpected visitor last week—after you left—who reminded me of what years of half-assed apologies look like. I don’t want to keep doing things that piss people off. I’m tired of breaking shit. This whole rehab thing has been a fucking pain in the ass. Just constantly reminding me that I’m shit at everything. I’m trying to be more positive.” There’s an edge to his voice as he says these cryptic words. 

Their conversation is pleasant thus far, so Rey decides not to push it. “That’s very honorable of you.” She mimics back encouragingly with a little smile.

“Well, I had a lot of time alone to think about it.” There’s an edge to his tone when he says, ‘alone’ like he’s trying to point it out.

“I thought you were keeping Maz company all week?” She asks smoothly.

Ben snorts at her assumption. “Don’t let her fool you. She came into my room the other day, thinking it was Chewie’s. Wouldn’t leave me alone after that. I’m pretty sure they’re fucking.”

Rey’s eyes blow wide. “Ben!” She admonishes at his crassness, but then she thinks about it. “I mean, you’re probably right—”

“My room _is_ right next door.” Ben provides. “Maz is not a…quiet person.”

For some reason, the thought of Maz and Chewie makes Rey’s blush turn even hotter. She’s so small…and he’s a giant…

“I can hear you thinking.” Ben’s tone is teasing as he prods at her.

Ben’s cane taps and hits the wall at the end of the hall, signaling the nearness of his room. They pause in front of it. Ben’s hand reaches out to feel for the doorknob. When he twists it open and steps inside, he turns back to her.

“So, I’ll see you Sunday?” He asks, and for the most part, it sounds like a casual question, but it’s the way his eyebrows raise slightly and his mouth parts just so that indicates to Rey that he’s truly asking and not just assuming. For once, he looks apprehensive of her answer.

Ben Solo is nervous.

The thought bubbles inside of her, into a kind of excitement for what she can’t quite name. Rey nods resolutely before the smile spreads farther across her lips. 

“I’ll see you on Sunday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to the one commenter that called Ben's reaction to no Rey for _one_ visit! 👏
> 
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are beginning to get...juicy 👀
> 
> Quick disclaimer - I do not agree at all with Ben's sour opinions of literature and the written word, but damn, it was fun to give Rey a bit a literary mental gymnastics 😅
> 
> Thank you to all the comments and for liking this story so far!!

That Sunday, when she walks into Ben’s room, he’s sitting at the table fiddling with his radio. She hears the static blips and then the occasional bar of a tune before he switches the dial again. After a few more seconds of fiddling, he curses and shoves it across the table. 

“Everything alright?” She asks, unsure if she wants to know the answer. 

“The fucking shit won’t catch a signal anymore.” He points his hand towards where he moved the aforementioned gadget. “Piece of shit.” He grumbles angrily.

Rey glances at the radio then back at Ben. She thinks whatever has pissed him off has nothing to do with the radio. “Something on your mind?”

“No.” He growls, and his hand that has been pointing towards the radio raises to run through the portion of his hair that’s not restrained under his bandages. It appears that he’s been doing it often with the way tufts of silky black strands stick in haphazard directions on top of his head. If Rey didn’t know any better, she’d think he was trying to be discreet in fixing the disarray.

It’s actually kind of adorable.

He exhales deeply and then, “—Yes, actually. I wanted to…officially say sorry for last week.” His words fall quickly from his lips with the confession. He looks uncomfortable, like apologizing is something foreign to him.

Rey’s eyebrows raise. She certainly did not think she would receive an apology from him—ever. She assumed that their conversation from Thursday was the closest she’d ever get to one.

Ben huffs. “I just got a shit diagnosis, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She can’t pinpoint exactly when or how, but Ben opening up in this way is something Rey would call a _big_ step forward.

“No.” He says immediately, and it’s final.

Rey nods and says, “Okay.” Then she pulls her book out and flips to where they’d last left off.

-

It happens again. Most of it is written in metaphor, in subtext. It would take a magnifying glass or the critical eye of an Oxford researcher to translate what the words say and into what they really mean.

But she knows it wouldn’t be as easy as that. Ben, for his supposed utter lack of interest in reading, has the analytical brain of a Rhodes scholar. Nothing has gotten past him yet, and now Rey really wishes she could skip over this part of the book entirely, maybe even just stop reading it altogether. 

There weren’t enough metaphors in the world to make orating this scene aloud any less mortifying. 

_“Now you shall come to my call. When my brain says ‘Come!’ to you, you shall cross land or sea to do my bidding. And to that end this!”_

_‘With that, he pulled open his shirt, and with his long sharp nails opened a vein in his breast.’_

Ben scoffs, and it doesn’t help the heat that’s currently encompassing Rey’s entire body. When he notices her pause, he cocks his head. “You didn’t have to stop.” He quips.

Rey does not know why she blushes at that. “I was waiting for you to say something inappropriate.” She deadpans and yes, maybe it’s a way to prolong the pause they’ve created just so that she doesn’t have read the rest of it. 

“And here I was, waiting for you to do the same. I assumed it was going to be his cock next…driving deeper…and _deeper_.” He misquotes, referring to a previous part of the novel when they had read of the killing of Lucy…

Rey sputters in shock at the explicit turn of the conversation. “There’s a reason why Stoker preferred to use subtext for...”

“For sex?” Ben finishes for her, and then he makes a noise in his throat that sounds like disapproval. “Fuck, writers can seriously be _so_ fucking conceited. Like, they have to string a hundred pointless words together just to say: he fucked her _hard—_ she liked it _._ And then the fucking _metaphors_ —Subtext is bullshit.” Ben scowls.

Rey shakes her head in disagreement. “People who have the ability to describe emotion and situations with allegory rather than tedious prose like: vampire has sex with woman. It’s—it’s leagues worth of talent to pull that off. If you hate Stoker, I’d hate to see how you digest poetry.”

Ben looks over to her, and even with his eyes covered, she imagines she can see the look of contempt he’s giving her. “Poetry is just as bad. They use metaphors and spin you around before they get to the point. It’s the same argument. After all that, all they were trying to say was—his straining cock, heaves laboriously for that wet pussy.” He stretches his arm out as he orates his words like he’s speaking them on a stage. “Throw in some dumb vocabulary and break a sentence into a bunch of lines without punctuation and it’s poetry.” The asshole then smirks at her with his arm still outstretched, like he couldn’t have thought up anything more brilliant. 

“Your poetry could use some work.” Rey glares, even though his words struck something within her. Ben Solo with a dirty mouth is…

It’s _affecting_.

He then has the gall to pout. “When my brain says ‘come!’ then your cunt shall quiver!” He shakes his head as he recalls the line from the novel. “I mean, come on. It’s garbage.”

“It’s a creative license.” She argues just for the sake of rebutting. His use of such a filthy word has all her thoughts rattling around aimlessly inside her. At this point, she might be working on autopilot.

“It’s pretentious.”

“Many would argue that art is even more so.” She snips back.

Ben scoffs, but he is clearly ready for this fight. “Art can be interpreted in a number of ways. Words are just thrown together in ambiguity to confuse the audience, to make them think they’re _so_ profound once they’ve finally figured it out.” It’s clear that Ben will not sway from his own pretentious high horse. 

“Words can be extremely powerful,” Rey says, and she scrambles for how she can explain it to him in a way that will get him to see her point. “One medium doesn’t have to be better than the other. Art evokes emotion, whether it’s with what we see or what we read, or even what we hear.”

He pauses then, considering. “I will agree with you there. Words _do_ evoke emotion. They can tear you down. They can hurt you—ruin you.” He inhales deeply, and it makes Rey wonder where this turn in the conversation is going—If he’s thinking of something in particular. “Art won’t do that to a person. It can be an escape from reality.”

“What if it’s disturbing art? Child murder, or—pornography?”

“Seriously, what is with you and killing kids? There’s something sadistic about you, under your Good Girl persona.” He’s teasing her though, and she frowns with contempt.

Rey tries to ignore the way he said ‘Good Girl’ and the deep tone of his voice, and how she felt it rumble within her with each enunciated ‘guh’.

Ben doesn’t wait for her to defend herself. “I would bet that most people are into erotic art compared to those who fear it. Even if they don’t want to admit it.”

“But it can still evoke negative emotions, even without words.”

“Not everyone is talented enough to create a visual atmosphere that can do that—but _everyone_ , whether they’re fucking Shakespeare or an illiterate moron, can tear someone down with a single word. Art can be interpreted—Words, meanwhile, can be quickly misinterpreted.” He shakes his head like something’s starting to not compute. “I don’t get where this argument is coming from or why we’re even having it.”

Rey’s eyes widen. “You—you started it!” She wants to scream. The infuriating bastard. “You called subtext bullshit.”

Ben smiles then, and it’s conniving in its essence. It makes Rey feel apprehensive. “Oh, right. You were getting all flustered reading about sex…”

She sputters in reproach for his condescension. “I don’t have a problem with reading literary erotica.” It’s not so much the material, but rather to _whom_ the material is being read. 

But she’s still coming to terms with admitting that to herself let alone—

He looks over at her then, and it’s the way his stupid mouth is smirking at her, it makes her want to slap him. “You _so_ do.” And then he almost leers at her—if someone could leer without eyes. “And it’s okay to refer to it as smut, Sweetheart.” 

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“Saying I’m an asshole with fancy words doesn’t make your case look any better.” He leans back against the couch and draws his arms up and over his head. He rests his neck against his palms, and the muscle flexes at the movement. 

She knows she’s staring. A part of her feels relief at knowing he can’t see her. It’s very cowardly of her, but she can’t seem to help the way her head tilts as she takes in the entire length of his body. His legs are outstretched, and it makes him look impossibly longer. The prick.

“I’m going to use an example to prove my point.” He says decidedly. One arm comes up from around his head as he gestures to her. “I’m proving the point that reading about the context of sex makes you uncomfortable,” he verifies. “Except I can’t read, so I’m just going to make it up.”

“I don’t think you’ll end up proving anything.” Rey snaps, still miffed at being the center of his torment.

He ignores her. His lips purse for a moment, and he tilts his head up, appearing thoughtful. 

_“She stares with withering eyes,_

_because she hates me._

_If I were a splinter from her pencil,_

_her most favorite companion to share her detestation of me—_

_She would never write again._

_But when I use my own devices to prod_

_To caress_

_To taste_

_That sodden nectar of her abhorrence_

_As it runs down my chin_

_That sweet cunt when it squeezes the words right out and onto the page_

_And she forgets that she had sworn she would never scrawl another thing,_

_because all she wants, all she begs for_

_is my cock to push her imaginings deeper_

_and deeper…_

_…and deeper still…”_

He pauses, and his lips have stilled, shaped around the last word of his oration. Rey can see the edge of his tongue as it caresses the bottom edge of his incisors. 

Her eyes haven’t left his mouth, but when he stops, she slowly shakes herself out of the trance his voice had pulled her into. 

In all the time she’s spent with him, she had no idea his voice could sound like _that_. Let alone the words he was sprouting and the way they moved across her skin, licking like a flickering flame.

She felt warm. She felt perspiration. She felt distressingly damp. She notices her hand is clenched in a fist so tight her nails had dug indents into her skin. She hadn’t noticed until she watched his lips melt into their signature smirk, finally breaking the spell. 

“Rey?” It jolts her, and the legs of the chair shift minutely against the floor. 

“Yeah—yep, fine. You win—or whatever. You can read smut aloud. Congratu-bloody-lations.”

“Yeah?” He asks, and it’s in such a tone that it makes her shiver, and she doesn’t know how to recover. “I think I should take up erotic poetry then. I feel pretty confident in my talents…with the way you’re erratically breathing…makes me think I might actually be pretty good at it.” No sum of money could wipe the satisfied look off his face.

Rey clamps her mouth shut. She hadn’t noticed a change in her breathing. Maybe it’s his heightened senses that allow him to hear it—or he’s just fucking messing with her. 

Or maybe she’s too distressingly turned on beyond practical reasoning.

But it was the way he challenged her that stirred her the most. Yes, he was built like a bloody tractor and somehow still had perfect hair even though gauze wrapped around most of it every day, even with half of it sticking up and out in a devastatingly handsome sort of way. His lips were the most tantalizing set she’d ever laid eyes on. Maybe it was because she laid eyes on them too often. She’d incurred a sort of obsession with them only because she had to stare at them to be able to read him.

It was necessary to understand him. It was the window to his otherwise scowling posterior. It was the reason as for why she _had_ to look.

Sometime during his soliloquy, he’d shifted his position on the couch. He is no longer stretched out but sitting with his torso hunched over his legs in a pose that screams The Thinker from bloody Rodin. 

How did every muscle in his body flex in this position?

“Were you turned on?”

His question comes out of nowhere, and it shocks her. There’s a high-pitched sound screeching in her ears. Her mouth falls open. 

“Wh—No!” She lies, and it makes her insides squirm. “You—it’s inappropriate to ask that.” She babbles indignantly. She’s assuredly failing at hiding her true emotions.

Ben juts his chin out, and his jaw works around his next thought. “Why?” He asks like her reasoning is stupid. And then, as if he decides that this would sway her answer, he goes, “I was. I am. Right now.”

Everything in the room spins around her. She’s dizzy with the bluntness of his confession. Her legs pressed together unwittingly. 

There’s no possible way he actually wants her. This is all just a part of his stupid games he likes to play with her. 

As she’s scrambling for some sort of reply, they’re interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

The sound makes Rey practically jump out of her chair. Her tightened muscles jerk with the quickness of her movement. 

“ _The fuck—”_

Rose peaks her head around the door as she opens it. “Hey, hey sorry to cut the session short, but Ben’s got a visitor.” The door opens wider to reveal a second person standing behind Rose. 

It’s a woman with her hair twisted up in a perfectly braided updo. When her eyes land on Rey, her eyebrows shoot up slightly, minutely. If Rey hadn’t been staring at her like a deer in headlights, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Hello.” She says, addressing Rey. “I’m Leia Organa, Ben’s mother.”

Her name rings some sort of proverbial bell in Rey’s subconscious, but her brain has decided to stop working, so it’s ability to function is null. 

Rey can only nod. Her lips fumble around her own name, but she’s finally able to say. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rey.”

Rose comes to her rescue then. “Rey has been amazing with all the patients here. She’s one of our reader volunteers.”

The older woman nods skeptically. “Ben never liked to read much.” She says bluntly, her eyes shift over to him. Rey follows her gaze to see Ben still sitting there with his elbows on his knees and his mouth pulled into its usual thin line. “It’s nice to see him finally taking an interest.” There’s a nuance in her tone that makes Rey feel a rush of embarrassment run through her. She can't know they'd just been discussing things of a sexual nature _—_ that Ben had just confessed his arousal _—_

“I think I need to tell the nurses here to screen any and all unplanned visits.” Ben balks rudely like Rose isn’t in the room. “I didn’t know you were visiting today.” Ben’s greeting to his mother is clipped and strained.

“I didn’t think you’d have company.” Leia shoots back without missing a beat.

Rey takes that assumption as her way out, just as Ben goes, “Well, I do—”

“No, it’s really not a problem,” Rey assures and winces at the heightened pitch of her voice. Her hand clutches the spine of the book for dear life. “We were finished anyway.” She tries for a smile and thinks she manages a convincing one. Her heart is beating a million times a second and she feels hot all over. 

Leia stares at her with a look that Rey can’t decipher. She feels like she’s under a spotlight, and she’d very much like to jump out of it. 

“If you’re sure,” the older woman replies, and Rey just nods emphatically. 

“Of course,” she turns her head briefly to Ben. “See you next week.”

He’s frowning, and she can tell how displeased he is. His jaw ticks like he’s biting down on whatever it is he wants to say. 

She’s grateful for his silence. 

When she walks towards the door, Rose turns to go with her. 

Once they’re walking down the hall, Rose looks over at her. “Are you okay? It was weird in there,” she says perplexedly. 

Rey shrugs, hopeful that Rose can’t tell that she’s still on the verge of a possible panic attack, or a heart attack, maybe both. Her heart rate still hasn’t come down from its reaction to his orations.

“Yes, all is fine. I have a lot on my mind with school. It’s getting a bit busy with midterms, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Oh, well, if you need more time, you can always take a day off from here if you need it.” Rose offers. She always is so understanding. It’s an empathetic offering Rey isn’t used to being on the receiving end of.

Rey just shakes her head. “No, no it’s fine. If anything, this is the best place for me to destress from it all.”

At least, it had been. Today’s visit had thrown a wrench in her otherwise fretless volunteer work. Ben had always been a sort of wildcard, but she hadn’t anticipated how _affected_ she would become. She knows he likes toying with her more than anything else. She’s his comedic relief almost three days of the week. 

He takes pleasure in embarrassing her to get a reaction from her. It peeves her that he would go to such lengths as to say _she_ affected him. His flirtatious teasing is one thing, and Rey believes she has a firm handle on that, but the bluntness with which he said— _I was, I am, right now—_ leaves her head spinning. 

Rey tries to clear her mind from the muddling onslaught of thoughts that will not be _quiet_.

It’s best she did not think so much about Ben Solo, or his knee-weakening sex poems, or the sensual slope of his mouth when he smirks at her.

But damn it all to hell, she can't seem to bloody stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeeeep I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) if you want to scream into the literary void with me ❤️


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving how their relationship is progressing and all that, but idk guys my patience with slow burn is waning... but it is slowww - like that Adam Driver SNL skit I was just shown by my sweet friend @ellex66.
> 
> Eepp thank you all for continuing to follow this story! 
> 
> And this fic was put on a rec list by AnneAnna and it def gave me all the feels 🥺 so thank you so much for the appreciation!! It definitely encouraged me getting this update ready and out!
> 
> And thank you to everyone for the kudos, comments and ❤️ for this story. It has been my favorite to write so far and I'm so excited for where it's going!

That next Tuesday, Rey decides to ask for a second opinion. 

_“Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”_

Jyn laughs, breaking Rey out of her recitations. “What?” She asks, and the humor is evident in her question.

“Lizzy is hilarious,” Jyn replies with an excitable expression. “She loved him so much the whole time, but her stubbornness is adorable.” 

Rey thinks about her comment. “You think? I always thought her assumptions of Darcy and his rudeness to be valid reasons for her to see him as someone reproachable. I mean, when I read the story now, knowing what I know, of course, it’s hard to view it through an abject lens.”

Jyn shakes her head formidably. “Oh no, it’s obvious from the start. At least, I think so.” Jyn amends, and she looks thoughtful. 

Suddenly Rey is thinking back to Ben and his poetry from the other day. A blush rises to her cheeks.

“Hey, can I ask you something, it’s sort of a…personal subject?” Jyn doesn’t pause her hand from lifting the cup of tea to her lips. She sips it cautiously.

“Now I’m intrigued.” She replies, sounding beyond curious.

Rey chews her lip as she thinks of how she should ask her question. She takes a deep breath. “What do you do in a situation where you’re sort of friends with a person, but there might be more going on there, but you aren’t sure, and the only implication you have is that he recited a sexually charged poem to you and then asked if it turned you on?”

Jyn does not respond right away, but her face does. Her eyes widen in shock before the impudent smile lifts and dimples. “Are you asking me if I think he likes you? Because my answer would be one-hundred percent yes.”

Rey closes her eyes tightly. That was not the response she’d been hoping for. Plus, she’s quite sure that’s not the issue here. “What if he’s not…attainable?”

The young woman’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not sure I understand the question. You said he just recited you a love poem—”

“It was a sex poem.” Rey feels the embarrassment rush through her as she squeaks that part out. “I guess—it would be inappropriate to consider it. And I don’t think it’s so much that he likes me, more that he likes tormenting me.”

Jyn laughs then, shaking her head. “Rey, sometimes boys that like girls can act like such idiots. Some of them just don’t know how to interact with women and instead revert back to their immature and prepubescent selves. Is he…married?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Rey affirms quickly.

“Well, do you like him?”

“No—I mean, I haven’t thought about him in that way,” Rey replies to Jyn, while her mind replies to her. _Liar._

“I think you have.” Jyn refutes, and she sounds teasing. “I don’t see the problem in investigating a little. Judging by this conversation, the attraction is clearly there, and it’s not one-sided.” 

Rey chews on her bottom lip. “Do you think…do you think it’s inappropriate, given I’ve been volunteering to help with his rehabilitation?”

“Well, you didn’t tell me _who_ we were talking about, but now I’m only left to guess—and I’m guessing it’s not Chewie.” Jyn laughs.

Rey feels her face heat. Bollocks, she had been trying to be discreet, yet there she went putting her foot right in it. 

_“_ Do I think it’s inappropriate that you have a crush on Ben Solo? _No_ , it’s not like you’re his therapist or anything like that. Though it’s definitely a wrenchingly romantic story of how you two met if you did get together.” Jyn holds her teacup in both hands, and she poses with it. “It’s _very_ tea-worthy news.” She snickers before taking a delicate sip.

“I guess I’ve just been afraid—that all this is, is some game to him. I’m outside entertainment.” Rey mutters, voicing her fears. It’s the biggest one that’s been plaguing her mind since any romantic thoughts of Ben had begun. 

“Maybe you should ask him? We’re much too old for games or any of that anyway. But I think, from what I’ve noticed here at the center, that deep inside, Ben’s truly a big sweetheart. He’s come a long way in the last few weeks…and now I think I know why.”

Rey feels her face burn, but bloody hell, if the thought of Jyn’s suggestion doesn’t have butterflies fluttering about her stomach. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Rey mutters before she elaborates. “Girl talk, that is. Never really had someone to talk to about this stuff. Aside from my best friend Finn, but it’s not the same, different viewpoint.” 

Jyn smiles in understanding. “I’m here if you ever need a girl’s perspective.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door.

Rey looks over just as the door opens. It’s one of the other nurses Rey has seen around the rehab center. 

“Hello, am I interrupting?”

Rey glances at Jyn to see her smile widen. “No, not at all Cassian.” She turns to Rey. “Letting people in is terrifying, no matter what, but it could be that chance to experience something magical. A true connection. Besides, what if he’s your Mr. Darcy? All tall, dark, brooding, and handsome? You won’t know unless you finally open yourself to one of his advances.” Jyn’s smile shifts into a mild smirk. “We’d be a fine pair, you and I. I already see how I may resemble some of Jane’s practicality and utter becomingness.”

Cassian has entered the room with a dinner tray and sets it on the table.

“Ladies,” he greets. “Jyn, I think you’ll be happy to know today’s special is chicken enchiladas. I made the sauce myself, homemade like my Abuela’s. Baze reluctantly let me into the kitchen. I think I'm growing on him.” Cassian smiles down at Jyn as he lifts the cover over the tray. 

Rey looks with wide eyes at the presentation. The dish looks and _smells_ like something straight out of a restaurant. It's a full spread. There’s a small side salad and a bowl of cherries there as well. Rey is sure she’s never seen the food here presented in this way.

She does note that there is undoubtedly a small twinkle in Cassian’s eye as Jyn makes an approving sound.

“It smells delicious, Cassian.” Jyn reaches out and rests a hand on Rey’s arm. “I expect an update from you next week.” Her eyebrows raise mischievously as she squeezes gently. 

Rey nods. “Right, I’ll leave you to it then.” She gets up from her chair and heads towards the door. When she looks back, she notices that Cassian has filled her seat and is watching Jyn with a sort of cautious adoration as she lifts the fork with a bite of chicken enchilada to her lips. 

Maybe Jyn was right. Maybe all she had to lose was the ambiguity. Maybe she ought to find out if these feelings between her and Ben were just silly ideas spurred on by a romance novel—or if they were real. But if they were real, and if Ben, in his own aggravating way, felt remotely any of the same things towards her, well—

The real loss would be to never know it and never know if whatever this was between them could become…something. 

-

Rey can’t stop thinking about Jyn’s words as she makes her way down the hall. 

_Some of them just don’t know how to interact with women and instead revert back to their prepubescent selves._

Was that what was happening with Ben? 

Rey tries to shake herself out of those thoughts. It couldn’t possibly. 

Could it?

When she enters his room, Ben is sitting on the couch listening to music from a fancy new speaker at the center of the table. He holds up what looks like an iPhone and taps a few buttons before the music stops.

“New gadget?” Rey comments on the box as a means for something to say. She's curious about how he's adjusting to using the touch screen phone. She's seen a few other patients with them but hasn't had the chance to investigate it.

Ben grunts as he tosses the phone onto the coffee table. It lands with a heavy clunk. “My mom commented on the broken radio and decided to ‘upgrade’ me. It’s her way of feeling connected, just buying me off as an excuse to show she cares.” 

Rey feels unsure at his coldness to his mother. Familial dynamics was never something she understood. It wasn’t something she had experience with. Her education as a psychological therapist taught her it was not for her to push against vulnerable afflictions, especially in regards to family. 

“You don’t like it?”

Ben shrugs indifferently. “There are other things I’d prefer to listen to.” He turns his head towards her. “And you’re here now, so can I get a summary first of what’s on our agenda today? I want to know in advance if I have an argument coming my way.”

“You know, the other people I spend time with here are not nearly as—”

“Handsome? Charming…no, irresistible?” He smirks, and his eyebrows wiggle as his lips twitch smugly at her. 

She glares straight into the shallows of the gauze on either side of his nose. “A lot less quarrelsome.” She grumbles as she walks over to her usual chair. 

Ben crosses a leg over the other and steeples his fingers. “So, tell me. What are your other sessions like? What makes them so boring?”

Rey sighs loudly to make sure he’s heard her. His lip quirks up in that annoying smirk of his. “I actually have a great time with Jyn and Maz. Jyn and I are reading Pride and Prejudice, a romance novel with a strong female character. Our conversations are explorative and insightful. And Maz tells me far more interesting stories than I could ever read to her—as I now know you are quite aware of.” 

Ben scoffs. “I thought we also had explorative and insightful conversations?” He asks coyly.

“Jyn doesn’t have to resort to crass sentiments just for the sake of clout! Besides, that novel is much more age-appropriate.” She grumbles, still vexed with herself for not picking a more vanilla novel to read with Ben. 

“Let me get this straight, you’re reading frilly romance to her and erotic porn to me?” He asks, and he’s back to his insufferable self. “Here I thought you were trying to corrupt the whole rehab center, but I'm honored it's just me.”

Rey releases a frustrated breath. “They’re both critically acclaimed literary classics,” she argues. “And, if you recall, _you_ were the one who recited porn to me.”

He smirks but ignores her last bit. “And what kind of title is _Pride & Prejudice_ anyway? Doesn’t sound very enjoyable, sounds like something a bunch of snobs would drool over in their Sunday book club.”

Rey glares at him. “I’ll have you know, there’s nothing wrong with being a part of a book club, and it’s rude for you to look down at it in such a patronizing, egotistical manner.”

He turns his head over at her, and she’s gotten very attuned to reading him based solely on his lips. Right now, she watches as one end tugs up into a very self-satisfied smirk.

“I feel like I’ve hit a nerve.”

“The whole premise of the novel, and I’m explaining this is the simplest of terms, is pointing out the messed up norms of society back in those times, of how women were expected to behave and how love really is all about fame and fortune—but then, you have a love that is real, that beats the odds, that basically says ‘fuck you’ to what’s deemed _acceptable_.”

Ben shakes his head, but the grin is still there. “So, it’s like the ultra-feminist guide to romance?” 

“You’re unbearable sometimes you know that?” She almost shouts. She _almost_ does. Rey tries to remind herself that she’s supposed to be able to diffuse him, to not let him rile her in this way. But she seems to always fail miserably at any sense of propriety when it comes to him. 

Ben’s shoulders hike up, and his hands flip over as if to say, _who me?_ “But you still come visit for your bi-weekly dose of unbearable without fail.”

She really could throttle him.

He crosses his arms suddenly and chews at his bottom lip. Rey tells herself it’s because his mouth is the only way she can read him, but she does stare at it for a considerable amount of time, whether he’s speaking to her or not. If she were an artist, she could probably draw it from memory.

It's been a recurring habit of hers lately. She finds herself thinking about it sometimes even when she's away from the center...

“Fine, you get a chance to convince me. Read me something, and if it intrigues me… then I’ll call the bet, and we read it next.”

Rey narrows her eyes at him, curious as to what his game is. “If whatever I read prompts you to ask for more, then I get to read Pride and Prejudice to you? Fem power plot and all?”

He smirks wider at her mockery of him. His mouth says she amuses him and her words are cute. It infuriates her all the more.

“If I’m not convinced, then we’re revisiting my smut poetry.” His counteroffer makes her blanch even though he appears to be teasing her. They hadn’t addressed his confession from the last time. Rey had been too mortified, and he seemed to sense that—or it was all part of his own sick and twisted game. Maybe he was just waiting for the opportune moment to truly mortify her. He hadn’t brought it up again, not until now. “I’ll give you a few minutes to pick the best part.”

Except, Rey doesn’t need a few minutes. She decides based on what she knows of Ben. She considers his sourness to anything uplifting or sweet, or the way he seems to enjoy pushing her towards the edge of her personal cliff of sanity. 

She flips through the pages that she could navigate through in the dark. She thinks of the words she could almost recite from memory. Even if she isn’t able to convince him, she knows that at least she would read him a parallel of the character that seems to almost reflect so strongly in him. She wonders if it's silly of her to compare him in the same regard as Elizabeth to Darcy—even if the parallels are there. But no, she would not think of Ben in this way—the insufferable idiot. If anything, she just would like to find the best excerpt to wipe that stupid smirk off his stupid face.

When she finds the page she’d been looking for, she pauses and glances up. The prick is sitting there, waiting patiently, his legs crossed and stretched out languidly from where he lounges on the couch.

Without another moment’s hesitation, she reads:

_“And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, “is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, “these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?—to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”_

_Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said:_

_“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.”_

_She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued:_

_“You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”_

Rey stops and looks up at him, signaling the end of her reading. 

Ben has an eyebrow raised as they sit there in silence. “Ending on a cliffhanger, sweetheart?” And then the smile cracks through the smirk. “I think I underestimated you.”

She does roll her eyes then. 

Ben continues. “Mr. Darcy sounds like an asshole, it’s cute—the banter. Reminds me of someone…”

Rey closes the book. “Ever the astute one.” She mutters, and it infuriates her when he chuckles.

“Okay.” He then holds up his hands in a sort of surrender. “My interest is piqued.”

She looks over at him curiously. “You’re saying you’ll let me read Pride and Prejudice to you.” She says it as a statement, not a question.

“I’m nothing, if not fair.” He says and then shrugs like it’s the only reason—fairness, not the fact that she just proved him wrong. Never the fact that he might _actually_ be interested.

The triumph is delicious, but so is her relief at avoiding any more sex poetry for the time being.

Because, eventually, they will have to talk about whatever this is that’s going on between them. But for the time being, while there’s this ease between them, Rey would rather see where it goes.

After all, why mess with a good thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) 😊


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What sort of perks do villains lack?” She can’t help but wonder teasingly.
> 
> Ben purses his lips, appearing to think on it. “Well, friends for one. Everyone just always fucking hates you all the time.” He pauses. “A backstory? Maybe a chance to survive in the end? Getting the girl...” He trails off before he abruptly clears his throat. “You know, hero shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo, thank you for sticking with this (if you're still here). Content warning for mentions of past trauma concerning familial issues. I'm not sure exactly if this is a tag worth mentioning, but we get to learn a bit more about Ben's difficult past with his family--and a vague snippet of Rey's.
> 
> For everyone that has commented and kudos'd and liked this story so far - I thank you wholeheartedly. I hope the pacing is manageable and that you're still intrigued for more--because we still have a ways to go. 💕

They finish Dracula over the next two weeks. Rey’s found herself staying well past her hour. It’s either because they spend too much time talking and deliberating the gruesome death of Lucy, or Ben’s commentary on the idiocy of the ‘Circus Fools’, as he likes to call them, while they plot Dracula’s death.

At one point in one of their arguments, Ben asks, “Do you even like this book?”

Rey stares at him as she thinks about his question. “No, not really.” She admits, and then she laughs a bit to herself. “Honestly, it has a bit of a negative portrayal of women—they’re viewed as things to save and come off as pretty pathetic.”

Ben just nods before he gives his own opinion. “Yeah, it kind of sucks. Why are we reading it again?” When he turns to her, there’s a lopsided smile that wheedles its way straight into her chest. She feels it press there against her sternum, making her breath heave shallowly.

His comment makes a smile crack on her lip, and she’s sure she looks dubious. “I’m not sure.” And she can’t help the way the laugh falls out of her as they sit there in ambiguous amusement.

His smile widens along with her laugh, and she can see the edges of his canines peeking out. “Good, I just wanted to clarify.”

She’ll give him credit for sticking through it till the end. Ben decides to stop arguing against every little thing that doesn't agree with him in the novel, and they’re just about to close the book one final time that Sunday.

They’d begun talking more, less about how much they both disliked Dracula, and more about regular mundane things, like Ben’s opinion that toasted sandwiches are the only way to eat a sandwich. Chalky chunks of cheese in one's teeth was a fate worse than death.

Rey happily puts a scowl on his face when she describes, in detail, the delicious turkey club she had for lunch that day, straight from the deli cooler.

They haven't talked about erotic poetry again.

One afternoon when she visits, she notices, instantly, his clean-shaven face. She tries not to stare too hard at the smooth skin around his mouth, but it’s almost as if her eyes are now trained to zone onto them the moment she sees him.

“You shaved.” She declares outright. It’s more of a blurting of words that she’s unable to control. She flushes at her way of greeting.

Instead of a usual smug quip from Ben, he shrugs instead. “Felt like making a change.”

Rey coughs to clear her throat. Suddenly her mouth has gone quite dry. “It’s—it looks good on you.” She thinks it could be any sort of platonic compliment, but it feels extremely suggestive in her head. Her blush now spreading to her neck and chest.

With the facial hair gone, the angles in his face are much more prominent. It’s how she’s able to see, with much more clarity, the etch of a jagged scar across the right side of his cheek. She’d sort of noticed it before, but now it is much more visible. It starts at the edge of the bandages covering his eyes and trails across his cheek and down his neck. She assumed it was collateral from the accident.

Somehow, it favored him extremely well.

Her response has its—maybe unintended—effect and Ben smirks slightly. “Yeah well, Byronic heroes aren’t usually bearded. In fact, aren't villains in novels the ones that have facial hair?”

“Most do, I suppose,” and she can’t help but smile. A thought plays on the tip of her tongue. “Tired of being the villain?”

Ben makes a sound through his nose, and it mimics like the mix between a snort and a scoff. “Never, I don’t think the scar would let me forget.” He murmurs, calling attention to the pinkish line on his face for the first time. “Though, why would I want to be a bumbling idiot that somehow manages to save the day because of pure luck or fortune? I’d rather earn it.”

Rey wonders what he means by that. “Heroes can earn their happily ever after too.”

“Yeah, but it’s not as satisfying as when a villain does it.”

“I can agree with you there. A lot of villains end up having redemption arcs in novels. It's something I love reading most in literature. I actually think a lot of bad guys have complexity. They’re the characters with the most interesting pasts. We learn what gives them a reason for how they are when we meet them, and then we get to witness their journey, watch them grow, and it’s real. I think more people relate to those stories than you think. Heroes can be romanticized ideals of who we think we should be, and the villains are the reflections of ourselves, of who’s redemption we wish would become our own.”

There’s the silence after her small monologue, but Rey waits with bated breath for him to respond.

Ben’s chin tilts down in a curt nod. He looks thoughtful. “I’m working on changing the narrative, you know. Maybe there's a redemption arc in my own future. Plus, being a villain lacks some perks.”

“What sort of perks do villains lack?” She can’t help but wonder teasingly.

Ben purses his lips, appearing to think on it. “Well, friends for one. Everyone just always fucking hates you all the time.” He pauses. “A backstory? Maybe a chance to survive in the end? Getting the girl...” He trails off before he abruptly clears his throat. “You know, hero shit.”

Rey bites her lip as she stares at him. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he looked flustered almost. “I thought you wanted to earn your happy ending?”

“Maybe I get all of those things at the end of my redemption arc.” He lifts his eyebrows playfully. “After I’ve earned it.”

Rey finds herself wondering what sort of redemption he’s looking to achieve. She wants to know Ben Solo's story.

“I wanted to tell you something.” He says suddenly. He sounds uncomfortable, and she watches how his legs fidget as he sits up from his lounging position on the couch. "I wanted to say...I'm sorry."

Perhaps the answers to her questions are about to be revealed.

Ben chews at his bottom lip as if he’s considering taking it back, or maybe he just doesn’t know how to apologize.

“I know I’ve been an asshole to you since the beginning and even more so, lately. And for the sex poem thing—not cool.”

His words make her pause. There’s something inside of her that feels triumphant that he would acknowledge his past behavior. Maybe this was truly a sign that there was a real connection between them. It warmed her chest thinking that Ben respected her enough to consider apologizing.

“I appreciate the apology.”

“It’s been…nice, having you come and read that God-awful book every week. It’s the one thing that is starting to feel even just a little bit fucking normal.”

Rey thinks they’ve hit an astral plane, they’ve leveled up with a superpower bonus. She’s seeing a part of Ben that she never has before, the Ben that is hidden behind all of his snark and his asshole comments.

He’s chosen to confide in her. He’s finally opening up.

She knows without having to think a second thought that she likes it.

She can’t help but smile, and she swears she can see the slight red at the tips of his ears. “That’s good, Ben. That’s great, actually.” She says encouragingly. “I’m—I’m glad that these visits have been helping.” She goes for a teasing tone when she asks, “Does that mean we’re friends now?”

It’s intended to be a joke, even though every fiber inside of her yearns for it to be true.

“That would be the first step on my intended road to redemption.” He agrees, and his lips quirk into a smile.

“Well, villains don’t usually apologize.” She states, and it’s a nod to their current situation. “So, I suppose you’re on the right track.

Ben tilts his head back over the edge of the couch. She watches the way his neck stretches and his muscles pull taut as his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

He sighs. “You know, not one of my friends has come here since the accident.” There’s resentment in his tone as the words tumble out and up to the ceiling. “Goes to show how little shits they give. How fucking stupid I was to think that life I had before was fucking worth—anything. I thought I was hot fucking shit. But it was all just smoke and mirrors. It was my fault anyway…” He trails off as he lifts his head and shakes it a little in frustration. Ben leans forward again and rests his elbows on his knees as he hunches over himself.

Rey doesn’t know what to say or how to comfort him. She isn’t sure if he would want her to.

Were they even supposed to become friends? Were there guidelines she should have read on professionalism when volunteering? Or were there none, because that’s all this was—volunteer work?

There hadn’t even been paperwork to sign.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She tries, but it seems like the wrong thing to say because Ben’s hands come up to scrunch around his head. His large fingers curl around his skull, and every tendon in his hand is tense.

“No, you’re wrong. You don’t fucking know what happened.” He growls, and he looks like he’s trying to crush his skull with his bare hands.

Rey leans forward in her chair. She hesitates when her first instinct is to get up and go over to him. Somehow, she still feels this invisible barrier between them. It’s one she’s afraid to cross. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” She whispers. “But I think it would make you feel better to talk about it, to stop blaming yourself.”

Ben sighs, and he looks frustrated. She’s not surprised when he turns it on her. “No, you should know.” He says lowly. The timber in his voice deepens as he gravels out. “Before you try and save my conscious, you should know what happened.”

Rey waits patiently for him, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, and she tries to swallow it down, tries to quiet the anticipation.

“You know, I didn’t read much. Books weren’t really a thing that I liked. I preferred to show my emotions on a canvas. Everything I felt growing up was always loud and messy. I had these—inside voices always telling me how shit I was at everything, how I wasn’t built correctly or whatever. You probably don’t know this, but my mom’s a senator. She’s coming up for reelection this year. My uncle wrote a book about her. He said some shit in there about me to shift the narrative—so it didn’t look like I grew up with parents that were too caught up in their own bullshit to bother with me. I was just a brat that made explicit art because I was fucked up. I was the problem.”

Rey looks at him with sadness. His adamant distaste for the written word a bit clearer to understand just as much as the overhanging dark cloud that was cast whenever anyone in his family was even mentioned.

She hadn’t put it together, but of course, it all makes sense. Leia Organa, the senator of Maryland up for re-election. Now that she thinks about it, she’s seen the ads around D.C., the commercials always playing at the café.

As a British citizen, Rey doesn't pay too much attention to American politics. She only knew as much as Finn would complain about, and even that wasn’t very much.

Suddenly the thought that Ben came from that convoluted and compressing world made a lot of sense.

“I didn’t know.” She says softly, as a way to prompt him to continue.

Ben nods minutely. “It was the night of my opening reception when the accident happened. I didn’t even expect her to show up. Of course, my uncle was there right by her side walking around like the fucking Puritan he is. You know how much you love metaphors? Well, I had fucking Martin Luther criticizing my every piece, accusing me of depicting familial abuse in my art. That’s what his book was, it was basically the modern-day 95 Theses, and I was every sin and indulgence that posed a threat to society, to my mother’s senate run.”

Ben scoffs, thinking. “That’s not even what my art was, but as I said, they just like to spin their own narrative for the fucking votes. I even went under a pseudonym. You can’t have it both ways, you know? You can’t try and pretend I don’t exist, and when I do go off and make a fucking name for myself, come back in and just—try and take control of it.” The frustration bubbles into anger as he spits the last few words.

He keeps his head down, shaking it slightly. “You never say anything, but I know you think it—just like everyone else. Why am I such a dick? My family is perfect. How did I turn out like this?”

Rey shakes her head. “No, Ben, that’s not true. I don’t—”

“Right, you don’t. For some reason. It must be your compassionate spirit then. Or, you’re the only girl in the whole city that doesn’t watch the news...or read something equally as ready to report on my eternal damnation, like the Washington Post.” He mutters, thinking again.

She’s never seen his art. She realizes she never even thought to look it up. Rey is suddenly itching to Google him now, to see what it is he created.

In all her weeks of knowing him, of trying to forge a connection to him, how could she have ignored the biggest part of his known identity? She supposes it might have been because Ben never talked about his art, never talked about his past.

After experiencing trauma like he did, and living with the consequence of blindness for the rest of his life, it wasn’t such a surprise that he would choose to push it far, far away.

“We got into a big blow-up right there in the gallery. My uncle flipped out and called me a fucking disgrace right to my face—like I gave a fuck what he thought. Long story short, I got fucked up and decided to drive home that night. Barely made it off Massachusetts Avenue before I ran a red and clipped a delivery truck. That’s the last thing I saw, you know? Really saw, anyway. Bright red, and then darkness.” He blows a long, frustrated breath out of his mouth. “Poetic right?” He adds sarcastically.

“They said if I had someone in the car with me, they wouldn’t have made it—would have been instantly crushed by the traffic pole I crashed into. I was supposed to have someone there with me. Some tall blond supermodel that I scared off when I smashed half the bar. I’d probably be shackled, blind, and in prison, if I’d brought her home with me. Not sure what’s worse though.” He pauses, his face still facing straight ahead to his large windows he can’t see through, he might not even know they’re there. “Would I rather be in prison under my own personal solitary confinement, away from everyone—or here, with you, where I’m constantly reminded of everything I lost and a future I’ll never have?”

Rey is silent, struck by the heaviness of their conversation. She’s not used to this from him. She’s not used to this sort of vulnerability. It upsets her a little, that she is unsure of what she is allowed to do with it.

Ben huffs a sardonic laugh. “I can’t decide if one is worse than the other. What do you think?”

“I’d say I’m glad you aren’t in prison,” Rey says instantly. “As for your future, it’s different, but it’s still there. It’s still yours.”

“Maybe.” He murmurs and then the quiet stretches around the room. “You know my dad was here a few weeks ago. He said he missed me.” He says the words like it’s an inside joke Rey doesn’t understand.

“Oh?”

“Hadn’t seen him in five years. We had a falling out—I’m sure you’re not surprised.” Ben shrugs. “He likes planes, does his own thing, and flies off for months on end. Only comes back when my mom begs him to for political reasons. They’re technically separated. And suddenly I’m blind, and out of nowhere, I’m hearing, ‘We miss you. We think this—we think that—like they’re a ‘we’ again.” There’s underlying bitterness in his tone. “Like the last image of my mother that I remember, is the pure expression of disappointment on her face as she accused me of being so lost.”

Rey considers her words. “Sometimes accidents like this bring people closer together. They realize the reasons why they disagreed in the past don’t matter anymore.”

“Tell that to a family that constantly lives in the shadows of their predecessors.” Ben grumbles and his arms crossed over his chest. “We’d all be better for it if we just let the past die. It’s what I’m trying to do, at least.”

She wonders if it’s her place to offer this observation, or if he’ll bite her head off for it. Maybe their newfound connection has her feeling embolden to say the words when she otherwise would have been hesitant.

“From everything you’ve told me, and from what I’ve seen…do you think that maybe they are…trying?” She waits for him to snap at her, for the anticipated defensive comment she was ready for. When he doesn’t give it, she forges on. “Maybe they’ve changed, but they aren’t sure if you’d be open to reconnecting. Maybe they’re hoping you’ll offer the olive branch first—like you’ve done with me.”

Ben shakes his head in disagreement. “It’s not the same. You didn’t throw me away like garbage and then feel guilty about it when it was too late.”

“It’s not too late, Ben.” Rey insists. She wants to tell him how lucky he is. Regardless of what happened in the past, he had two parents that wanted to make amends. Even if they were shit at showing it, even if they were all learning how to do it together. At least they were there.

The more they talk, the more Ben opens up, the more Rey wants to talk to him with all shields down. Screw her therapist training and trying to psychoanalyze his problems. It kept getting easier—wanting to speak to him like this, like a friend.

“If it were me…” She trails off, and the alarm bells blare once, but not in a warning, more like in assurance. “I wouldn’t let the opportunity to make amends with my parents pass me by.”

“Your parents are probably nothing like mine.” His tone is snarky as if he thinks she can’t relate because her life is too good.

But he doesn’t know.

And because he was vulnerable with her, she decides it’s alright to give him this—not to put his foot in his mouth, but to share a part of her with him that went deep, a part of her that even Finn barely knew.

“I wouldn’t know.” She says simply and watches as the scorn instantly falls away from his face. His lips turn down in a frown and his jaw works once, then twice.

“Rey, I—”

“It’s fine. You didn’t know, but maybe you can just look outside your own shitstorm and realize there are people here that love you. People that want to be in your life now. Just—think on it.” She pleads softly, suddenly feeling exhausted at the display of her vulnerability.

And she isn’t sure what to expect from him after a confession like that. But his singular word reply has her floored more than if he’s said a string of them, just to say the same thing.

“Okay.” He says softly, and it makes her eyes shoot up to look at him.

It’s succinct, and it’s a promise. No metaphors necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) 🤗


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo sorry if I've made you wait long, I had been struggling on writing parts of this chapter, but had a surge of good writing vibes and was able to get this out!
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos, comments, and your response to this story. This is my favorite Ben and Rey that I've written so far, and I'm geeked to share more of their banter with you.
> 
> We're now at the halfway point, the angst is going to slowly rev back up! The slow burn, however, remains slow (don't hate me).

Rey walks into Ben’s room, brimming with excitement. When she plops down in her chair, Ben’s chin jerks towards her. 

“You seem…cheery,” he says suspiciously. 

Rey smiles, knowing he’ll be able to hear it in her voice. “It’s time.”

“I’m shaking in anticipation,” he says emotionlessly, but when she looks at his mouth, she watches as the thin line twitches _just_ slightly. 

Rey settles into her seat and pulls out her weathered copy. “You’re going to love it.”

She reads to him, and he doesn’t say much—for a while. So, when he does, she’s surprised by the interruption. 

“I get why you like this book so much,” he muses. 

When he doesn’t elaborate, Rey huffs, already apprehensive. “And why is that?” She prods, knowing that he enjoys when she’s riddled with curiousness and has to engage.

Ben shrugs like it’s an obvious answer. “You relate to Elizabeth. She’s strong-willed, stubborn, has _quite_ the tongue on her—” the way he says _tongue_ sounds almost lascivious. “You look up to her. It’s cute.”

She can’t stand it when he patronizes her like this. It riles her up more than anything else he does. 

“Do I even want to hear your opinion of the novel?” She asks, and there’s a hint of challenge in her voice. He has a look of indifference about him, and when he shrugs one shoulder, she’s resolute to ignoring him and continuing, but he doesn’t let her.

“I mean, everyone is pretentious as fuck. It’s like their life’s mission to be overheard talking about someone behind their back. Most of the women are frivolous and ditzy, and all anyone cares about is money.”

“As was the typical society in Britain in those days,” Rey supplies. 

Ben then shrugs both of his shoulders, and Rey considers holding them down with her hands. “I don’t get what you like so much about this novel in comparison to the other. They call women who are twenty-seven years old crotchety spinsters. Unless you relate to that too?”

Rey glares, “I don’t suppose you’re referring to being twenty-seven, _not_ a crotchety spinster?”

“It depends, how old are you?”

“How old are you?” Rey retorts, albeit a bit childishly.

“Thirty-one,” Ben says simply, before waiting for her answer.

“Younger than I expected,” she quips, but the smile tugs at her lips. “But definitely crotchety.”

Ben huffs, and it sounds close to a scoff, but it’s relinquishing. “I shared, so what about you?” He prods, and she’s curious as to why he wants to know so bad.

Rey’s mouth purses as she tries to contain her smile. “Not quite yet at crotchety, but approaching,” she replies cheekily. 

She watches as his lips quirk, but only just a twitch.

“It’s better on the other side,” he offers, and there’s a moment of respite between them that isn’t argumentative.

But of course, it’s short-lived.

“It’s almost too obvious that the big plot point of the story will be between Darcy and Elizabeth.”

“Enemies to lovers is an enthralling love story,” Rey defends, “whether it’s predictable or not.”

“It’s clear—especially if they’re going to refer to how these women look as _handsome_ —that looks are going to be the antithesis of what we’d expect to bring these characters together in the story. Like you have Jane and Bingley—the boring straightlaced pair. Then there’s Darcy and Elizabeth, and it’s a lot of insulting, but really they’re just two idiots who don’t know how to say I love you.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t like either scenario,” Rey surmises from his opinions. 

“I’m just saying if arguing is to be translated to flirting, then in this context, you and I should practically be on our way to the altar.”

Rey sputters at that. She tries to focus on what the words mean, and not the fact that he made a comparison to their…relationship.

She finds herself panicking about what sort of _relationship_ they have.

“What? You clearly misunderstand the premise, and how could you know that already? We’re not nearly twenty pages into the book.” When she looks at him, she notices him smirking rather deviously. It overcomes him, and he lets out a bark of laughter.

“Isn’t it the parallel of love for beauty versus love for wit? How is Lizzy described aside from being _handsome_? Like physically, is there anything in the novel that describes her physical traits?”

“I mean there are, but it’s later in the novel.”

“Well, it’s not a spoiler. You can just tell me. In your own words, what does Elizabeth Bennet look like?”

“I think I’m biased because I’ve seen the films, and I feel like Keira Knightly is who I picture most often.”

Ben hums, thinking. “Hollywood always makes everyone one hundred times hotter than they probably are in real life. Okay, different example. Describe yourself to me.”

“What?” Rey stares at him dumbfounded.

Ben groans in mild frustration, his neck swerves around, rolling his head for dramatic effect since he couldn’t do so with his eyes. “Is it really that difficult? Here are some prompts, hair color, eye color, freckles—no freckles? It’s not that hard, Rey.” There he goes patronizing her again and it makes her purse her lips. 

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything, or why you want to know so much about me now when I’ve been coming here for weeks.”

“Okay, _Eliza_. Just humor me, I’m disabled.”

Her eyes narrow at that cheap shot and the contrived nickname. “Are you trying to guilt me, Fitz?”

“Who?”

Rey rolls her eyes. “You think you’re the only one capable of coming up with varying nicknames?”

“Hmm, now that you mention it. She’s Lizzy when she’s being childish and carefree. But she’s Eliza, for when people are pissed with her—when it’s more serious. Regardless of the two names, they both share a proclivity for snark. What should your carefree nickname be?” He’s smiling, clearly enjoying himself.

She glares at him. “Are you suggesting I’m not fun?”

Ben shrugs again for the tenth time. “I mean, your version of fun is coming here and reading to the blind…”

“I would argue that you recently admitted to enjoying reading,” Rey recounts. 

“I would argue that it was more about who was doing the reading, not the act itself,” he says mockingly, but once again, Rey is baffled by these forward confessions. 

“Well, you’re right, reading is fun for me,” she admits. 

“Especially when you’re here reading to me,” he goads. They’re still playing, it seems, but Rey wonders if he honestly wants to know. Sometimes, underneath his teasing persona, she thinks she catches a glimpse of a boy who isn’t used to having any real or personal relationships. It's something he wants but isn't sure how to get.

She thinks that might be something they have in common, even if they deal with that loneliness in different ways.

“Well, yeah. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here,” she says honestly, and she wonders if, by being direct, she could finally shock him for once. 

He doesn’t take the bait and instead ignores it. “I can think of something that would be fun—like describing your physical traits to me. Maybe we’ll turn it into a revamped version of Pictionary.” He wiggles his brows at her. “I mean come on, it can’t be worse than having a scar slashed across your face—or is there something I should know?”

Rey groans, “and here I thought we were going to move on from that.” She sighs, “alright fine, I have brown hair that I usually wear in these three buns. It was something I used to do as a kid, and I never grew out of it. Hazel eyes and freckles. I guess my nose is a bit pointy, same with my chin. I have a tiny scar on my cheek from when tripped and bashed my face into the edge of a bookshelf when I was eleven. I’m average height with an athletic build, I guess, even though I hate sports and exercising…” She trails off when she realizes she’s been rambling. She’s never had to describe herself to someone before, and she finds a blush rising to her cheeks as she imagines him trying to picture her.

An odd thought runs through her mind, and she wonders if he would think her beautiful if he could see her.

Ben nods in acknowledgment. When he finally speaks, there’s an air of nonchalance in his tone that once again has her blood boiling. “I get it now,” he says as he nods. “You do sound very handsome indeed.” He’s added his horrible attempt at a British accent, and then he laughs like he’s told the funniest joke at the party. 

“You’re a prick,” she snaps, and if she wasn’t holding one of the sacred texts in her hands, she might have chucked it at him. 

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

-

On Thursday, when she arrives, Poe is leaning over the front desk talking to Rose. 

“Hey, Rey!” Rose greets, interrupting Poe from whatever they’d been talking about, and then she turns to him. “Maybe Rey would like to help.”

Poe is wearing his signature shades, and his eyebrows shoot up in interest. “That’s not a bad idea…”

Rey looks between the two of them. “What’s up?” She asks, and Poe pushes up off the desk. 

“We have a new patient, been here for a few days, having a pretty tough time adjusting. She’s a trauma patient, so her loss of vision is unexpected. And, well, given how great you are with the _other_ trauma patient we have here, maybe you could come with me—talk to her for a little while.”

She’s annoyed by the suggestive way he refers to her relationship with Ben. Somehow, hearing about it from an outsider makes her feel all sorts of protectiveness around their reading sessions. Maybe it’s just because it’s Poe referring to Ben in this rather obnoxious way. 

But she doesn’t say yes because it’s for Poe. She genuinely would like to be helpful, no matter who is asking.

“Sure, I’d be happy to help.” She says resolutely, and Poe flashes his debonair smile at her. 

“That’s great!”

Five minutes later, Rey finds herself sitting at one of the tables in the common room with Poe and a young, blond girl named Kaydel. She looks like she’s hardly over the age of eighteen. She’s wearing big wraparound sunglasses over her gauze bandages. She will still be able to see some light, but her eyes are still sensitive after the surgical procedure, and she needs to wear the glasses for extra protection.

Kaydel has AirPods in and is resolutely ignoring Rey and Poe as they settle in at her table. 

Poe turns to Rey and mutters. “Think she might go deaf with how loud her music is?”

“It doesn’t look like she wants to talk to us,” Rey replies as she scoots a little farther away from Poe. His inclination to lean is infiltrating her personal space, and she’d like some of it back, thank you.

Poe shrugs. “Nah, pretty sure she just likes to play hard to get.” 

Rey glances at the man. “Have you bothered her already?”

Poe’s face morphs into an expression of mock offense. “Bothered? I never bother anyone!”

“I can hear you two.” A third voice rings out over their bickering. “I’m not deaf yet.” Rey turns and notices the music is no longer blaring through the headphones. She watches as Kaydel slips the buds into the charging case before crossing her arms in front of her. 

“Hey, Kay!” Poe greets casually like they’re good friends already. “How you doin’, girl?”

Kaydel purses her lips in annoyance. “Great,” she clips.

“I brought my friend Rey over to meet you.”

The blond tilts her head to the side slightly. “Where are you from?” She asks bluntly. “You have an accent.”

Rey nods. “Yes, I’m from the UK.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Studying, I’m a grad student getting a master's in Psychology.” 

Kaydel shakes her head, a frown forms on her lips. “I don’t need another therapist,” she says defensively. 

“Oh, no Rey is not here as a therapist. She’s a volunteer reader for the patients,” Poe interjects brightly. “Maybe Rey could read to you too. What are kids reading these days, Twilight? Or that wizard one…”

“Poe, stop talking—”

“How old do you think I am?” Kaydel frowns, affronted, and the scowl is more than evident on her face. 

Rey thinks of a way to redirect the sudden derailment of this meeting. “Kaydel, it would be great just to get to know you. When I first came here, it all felt a bit overwhelming. I know I’m just a visitor, but the community here has been great, once you get to know people.”

The girl’s lips purse. “I’m not here to make friends. Just need to learn how to do shit without my sight, and then I’m outta here.”

“Right, right, strictly here for rehabilitation, got it.” Poe hums, and it’s clear he has more to say but is pausing for dramatic effect. “We're just another boring rehab center with nothing fun to offer.”

“And the food is shit.” Kaydel makes a face.

Poe nods emphatically. “So true, I asked Cassian if we could start lobster tail Tuesdays.” He looks thoughtful. “You know, I don’t think he has as much pull at this facility than he lets on…”

“I’ve only tried blue shell crab once, and I’ve never had lobster before,” Rey supplies, interrupting Poe and his ridiculous attempts at maintaining the conversation. 

He turns to her, and his eyebrows raise in mock surprise. “You’re now living in the Chesapeake Bay area, and you haven’t gorged yourself in the shellfish capital of the world?” He’s certainly exaggerating, but it makes Kaydel snort, and Rey finds herself smiling at the lighter turn of events.

“When I first arrived, my taxi driver at the airport told me the bay was terribly polluted. It sort of tainted my perspective,” Rey laughs as she remembers the interaction. It wasn’t so much that she wasn’t willing to try, but more so because the cost for such cuisines was normally quite high—and Rey had never been a very indulgent person. She’d never been allowed to be.

Poe scoffs and waves his hand. “They’re just a bunch of pessimists. I never get to where I need to go on time. They think just because I can’t see, I don’t know the difference between the parkway and driving straight through downtown—meter gougers, all of them—but, hey, you can’t live here and still have that opinion on the best that Maryland has to offer—if you want, I know a great place. It’ll be the best lobster roll you’ve ever tasted.”

Rey blinks as the realization of Poe’s proposal becomes clear to her. She racks her brain, scrambling to figure out how the conversation led to this…

“Well, seeing as I’m just here as a plot device for whatever romantic interaction is going on in front of me…I’m just going to…” Kaydel flicks open her AirPod case again and slips the buds in her ears. 

Rey turns to her feeling panicked. “What? No…”

There’s a loud sound of a chair being knocked over, and it makes Rey turn her attention to the commotion. 

She looks across the room in confusion as she watches the back of Ben’s very familiar head trudge angrily around the fallen chair, not even bothering to pick it back up. Maz is sitting there at the table, crocheting as usual, but she’s shaking her head. 

“Jumping to damn stupid conclusions…” she hears Maz call out to him. 

An alarming feeling of concern floods Rey as she pushes her chair back. “Sorry, I’ll be right back…” she mutters as she gets up. She can’t shake the feeling in her stomach. She reasons that if it was any one of her regulars, she would care about their well-being. It makes complete sense for her to check and see if they’re alright.

The sight of Ben clearly distressed has her crossing the room at record speed. 

When she passes Maz, she’s too preoccupied to hear her as she utters—

“Glad to see not everyone in this place is a damn idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides* but I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update because I couldn't handle the cliffhanger either 😬
> 
> Thank you for all of those who have kudos, commented, and like this fic so far! 
> 
> I said this was slow burn, and it is still slow burn--so please keep that in mind and I hope I haven't strung this out toooo much.
> 
> But yet, I love this relationship I've (slowly) built between them. There's a lot in this that's real for me, and while I do not have any close experience with blindness, the connection that Ben and Rey have together and how it grows has been a real challenge for me that I wanted to take on and ty to do _well_. 
> 
> So I hope I've done that, and I hope you enjoy this update! ... also I upped the chapter count 😅
> 
> ...I might have watched the below gif on repeat while writing the first part of this...

Rey skips a few steps to catch up to where Ben is stomping with an alarming speed. His walking stick flicks out every few steps to feel for the indents of each door—counting his way down to his room. 

“Ben,” She calls as she catches up to him, “Is everything alright?”

“Nothing to complain about,” he snips, but the sounds of his stick hitting the door frame sounds louder, snappier.

Rey’s neck swerves around so she can get a look at his face while trying to keep pace with him. His lips set in that thin straight line. “You just seem upset—”

“I’m surprised you even noticed. What with the way you were mooning over Poe back there?” Rey blinks as she tries to process his words.

Her steps falter. “What? I wasn’t—”

“Found yourself another blind rat to read to? Or, is there something larger at work here? Does it get you off or something? Because that’s pretty fucked—”

“Hey!” She grabs his shoulder to warn him before she whirls in front of him. Even with the warning, even if he knows she’s there, he takes another step forward, and her head has to turn abruptly before her cheek smashes against his chest. He makes some sort of frustrated grunt above her as his body curves over her and his hands fly to her waist.

The first thought that crosses her mind is how _solid_ his chest is. She knew he was tall, but being this close to him almost accentuates that fact. All she can comprehend is that her face is currently pressing against the hard planes of his chest, and the way his hands almost wrap completely around her sides. She stresses to herself that now is not the time to focus on the fact that his index finger is hardly an inch from her arse…

If she wasn’t so focused on getting to the bottom of what has him so pissed, she might have started hyperventilating.

When her mind comes back to her, she feels the way her heart rate accelerates. With a small exhale, she slowly pushes herself away from him. Her hand is still gripping his shoulder, but his press gently around her before dropping to his sides, and she feels instantly cooler. She uses her arm as leverage to create space between them again before it falls back to her side. 

Ben’s breath leaves him in short spurts through his nose. He almost looks like a blindfolded bull ready to charge. But at least he’s not trying to get away from her anymore.

Rey shakes her head to try and bring some clarity back. “I don’t know what’s going on here. I don’t know what I did to deserve your rude behavior—” She’s cut off when he goes to walk around her. “Ben!” She exclaims, feeling exasperated. 

His room is the next door over, and he roughly turns the knob and shoves his way inside. Rey goes to follow him and jumps when the door slams loudly behind him. The door beside Ben’s opens, and Rey sees Chewie’s head peek out. He’s wearing that bright orange hat that Maz had made him.

“Everything good?” He says gruffly, and his head turns towards Rey. 

Rey finds herself nodding before she remembers he can’t see her. “Yes, sorry if the noise bothered you.”

Chewie shrugs and grumbles something she can’t make out. “I’ve requested moving rooms twice already. Being neighbors with that kid—it’s not peaceful.” He grunts before he steps back and closes the door with a resounding click.

Rey turns back to Ben’s door. Things had been good between them, hadn’t they? This…jealous reaction came completely out of the blue. She doesn’t understand where it’s coming from or what could have warranted it. 

Yes, Poe might have possibly asked her out in a very confusing way…but she hadn’t said yes. She’d been about to shut it down just as Ben’s chair hit the floor.

It’s not in Rey’s character to let things go. She can’t leave things alone when they’re clearly not resolved. It’s, probably, why she could hardly find any self-restraint when she’d read books. She’d be up all through the night finishing novels. 

Rey absolutely detests cliffhangers.

She raps her knuckles on the door out of politeness before she opens it and charges inside.

Ben is standing by the window on the far side of the room. It’s cracked open, allowing for some fresh air to blow inside. 

“You really can’t let anything go,” he mutters, echoing Rey's aforementioned disdain for open-endings. 

Rey’s arms raise, and her hands spread out into exasperated claws as she tries to shake him telepathically across the room. “Can you please explain?”

Ben chuckles sardonically to the window. “Why are you here Rey?”

Rey feels the sound of frustration rumble in her chest, sick of revisiting this recurring argument with him again.

She shakes her head at the same question he’s already asked her weeks ago. “Because I’ve made friends here, and I enjoy reading to them—to you,” she says, and she hopes the clarity of her response will finally reach his stubborn head.

It’s not the right answer, though. “No, I know you love to fucking read, okay? Why do you put up with this? Why do you spend time past your hour to deal with my bullshit multiple times a week?” He turns so his body is facing her, and he crosses his arms over the wide expanse of his chest. That same chest she had her cheek pressed against moments ago. The tick in his jaw is bulging. “There’s plenty of other patients you could see. Fuck—so many other things you could be doing…and so many other people you could be doing it with…” He sounds bitter as he trails off, shaking his head. “Why do you even bother with me if all I do make you miserable?” 

Rey’s eyes widen. “Where is this coming from? I mean, yes, you can be wholeheartedly annoying at times, but that doesn’t change the fact that I—like visiting you.” It sounds like a confession, something more than what she means in this context. She brushes past it. “I thought things were improving. You’ve come so far since the accident.”

“See, there it is,” he says with the kind of satisfaction like he’s just solved the murder. “I’m some pet project you can’t let go of. You have this idea of me, and you hope I'll change to fit that narrative. Did you forget the way I tormented you in the beginning? I was an asshole—I _am_ an asshole.” He gestures at himself to accentuate his point. Her eyes drop down to that hand. That same hand that had been draped across her back…

“I hate to break it to you, Sweetheart, but you will just be disappointed in the end. You have no idea what goes through my fucking head,” he snarls.

She feels her sense of understanding slip away once more. “Then tell me. Ben I—you’re not some project to me. You can tell me things. I genuinely thought we were becoming friends, that you were happier…that you were overcoming your past and all the pain that came with it?”

“How can you not see your self-righteousness?” His arms drop, and he’s hunched over again in an aggressive manner. “It’s not your job to help me get over the fact that I’m fucking blind, Rey!”

“I know that!” Her voice raises for the first time. Even when she wanted to, she never shouted. Somehow Ben pulls out this aggressive side of her, this person who wants to be heard. “I—,” she pauses. The truth of her feelings, of why she’s here three times a week, it all comes crashing down on her. 

If she were to give him the simple, honest answer, all she could think to say is she's here because she wants to be, because she _likes_ him.

But even the thought of that confession has her stomach tightening in knots.

“I haven’t been coming here just to help the visually impaired. I’ve grown connected to the people here—Maz, Jyn, Rose…you—and yeah, you don’t make it so easy to get along with, but I have—or I thought so at least,” she trails off in a whisper. The vulnerability of sharing something so personally has her shirking away, trying to make herself small.

Ben’s hands have fallen to rest over his thighs. His defensive stance changed to silent repose. He looks calmer. Whatever rage he’d gone into in the common room has dissipated. When he speaks, he says something she does not expect. 

“I just—ever since the accident, now that I’m like— _this_.” He gestures to his face. His body thrums in frustration. “It’s fucking difficult to know what’s real and what’s…look, for anyone that’s known me before all this, it’s impossible to know how they feel now—after the fact. It’s hard to know if they care, or if they just feel fucking sorry for me.” He’s being incredibly candid again, and it is this sort of openness that makes Rey’s chest constrict with the need to help him through this—however she can.

He has to know that she has never been anything but herself around him, that she’s never seen him as anyone else than as the man she sees right in front of her.

And he has to know these feelings are not subject to just his appearance either. “It’s real Ben,” she whispers as she walks over to him. She stops when she’s close enough to reach out and touch him. “Our connection is real.” 

His head turns down, and when he speaks next, it’s softer. “It’s incredibly…isolating not knowing if anything in your life is yours anymore.” He leans against the window sill. “And…

“You coming here? It’s the only part of my life that's fucking genuine, that hasn’t been dictated by someone else, hasn’t been taken from me—I just…I think I’d freak out if I lost it.” He shakes his head, and it looks like he wants to say something else. 

Rey stares at him unmoving, terrified a single breath would break this…paramount moment happening between them. 

“It’s hard to think that someone _normal_ would even care to spend time with me at all.” The dark, self-deprecating remark makes her start.

Rey leans towards him, and she realizes after she’s done it that her hand is resting over the top of his crossed arm. He sucks in a breath at the touch.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she insists, and her grip on his forearm tightens. “You’re so afraid of dishonesty from me, but I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. We met because of unusual circumstances, but nothing about that should mean it’s not real.” She takes a step closer to him. “I am your friend, Ben. I hope I’m yours too.” 

She’s never thought much about herself or what she wanted. Ben’s confession made her feel… _needed_ in a way she had never considered. This friendship between them was different than any relationship she's ever had.

She had Finn, he was her best friend, but he didn’t need her. When she moved out, and Jannah moved in, it had all seemed like something that should not be a big deal. She should not feel left behind just because her friend got a new roommate. She should not feel like she’s all alone just because she lives in an apartment all by herself halfway across the city. 

She shouldn’t feel isolated either, but yet, the anxiety of never truly belonging anywhere is what kept her from ever allowing herself to just _slow down_. She realizes she's never taken the time to think about herself, to think about what _she needed._

“Part of why I come here every week is because I can’t—” She swallows, and the words feel like cotton in her throat. “You’re not the only one who feels like they’re on their own in this world. Did you ever consider, that maybe I’m here because I’m also in need of something real? I spent most of my life just surviving, never really living. I was always hiding in the worlds of the novels I read. I’ve—I’ve always felt so alone, and I never knew how to handle it properly.” The words fall out of her in a crashing cadence of emotion. She can hear the tinge of anxiousness in her voice that heightens with every word. Containing her emotions has always been difficult in front of him—especially with him.

“This… this has been a help to me too.” She confesses, and it’s terrifying how easy it is to see it now, to see that there has been an improvement in her life, in her mental health, ever since she started these visits. 

“You’re not alone, Rey.” His arms fall away from his chest before they hesitantly rise to rest around her shoulders. The heat of his palms soothes her erratic heart. He chews his bottom lip, thinking. “You told me that once, remember?” He says it quietly, intimately, and his jaw works as he thinks.

“I know what it’s like too, to feel like there’s no one. It’s hard for me to understand why someone would want to stay when none have before.” He pauses, and his head tilts down. He looks overly apologetic even though he hasn’t said the words yet. “I get it, all of it. And I honestly think you’re the only one who gets me. I don’t want to fuck it up.” 

Rey’s hand trembles as she fists it to try and steady herself. “I’m sorry if you thought I was using you. If you thought I didn't see you as anything but a problem to solve.”

Ben cuts her off then, waving his head dismissively. He rises from his perch on the windowsill, and suddenly he’s towering over her. His palms squeeze lightly at her shoulders. “No, it was wrong of me to put my bullshit on you. I know I don’t make it easy for you. I know I don’t deserve your friendship—but I want it.” His voice is thick as the words come out stilted. “I need it.”

“I do too,” she whispers, and she watches as his lip trembles above her. Her neck cranes up, and if she just lifted on her toes just a bit…

Suddenly, he’s embracing her. His long arms wrap securely around her shoulders, and he pulls her into his chest. 

It’s incredibly warm, and he’s exceedingly large. She thinks if she wanted, she could cocoon within his arms and possibly nestle there, content forever.

His chin nudges just above her ear, and she feels him press it there, at the side of her temple. When he sighs gently, his breath brushes against the strands of her hair, and she closes her eyes, reveling in the comfort of it.

She briefly wonders if there could be…more to this? Hadn’t she almost fallen to the urge to kiss him just now? How had all of her emotions gotten all twisted up? Seeing as they just finally solidified their friendship, any such thoughts of going beyond that were terrifying to think of.

What made it so terrifying was the ultimate disappointment, the rejection she might face if she pushed too far. If she allowed herself to hope. She wasn’t supposed to seek comfort for her own pleasure. That was not good therapist behavior. They’d come so far since all of this started. Ben even more so. Rey didn’t want to be the reason any of that got screwed up. This platonic relationship would have to be enough.

And she knew she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Ben because she couldn’t get a handle on her own emotions.

“You know, I don’t know who else I could torment if you decided you were sick of me,” he mumbles into her hair, and it makes her chuckle. The headiness and tension in the room finally broken.

Even though she thinks she could stay in his arms for the rest of the day, she knows she can't expect him to want the same. She pulls apart enough for his arms to release her, and she finds she misses his touch instantly. 

She sees the smirk tugging at his lips when she’s able to focus on his face. The gauze wraps crinkle where they rest on his cheeks. “What do you mean? I have accounts from a few people now, who have filed verbal complaints against you. Like your lovely neighbor.” 

He scoffs and shakes his head, walking around her to sit on the couch. His long arm reaches out to feel for the back of it before he plops down. “I have not heard any of these complaints.” 

Rey smiles to herself before she glances at the clock on the wall. “Well, I have about thirty minutes before I meet with Jyn. In that time, you can tell me what it is you’ve done to make poor Chewie despise you so much.”

Ben made an apathetic sound in his throat. “I haven’t done anything. That oaf has the hearing sensitivity of a dog. He even smells like one.”

“Ben…” She warns, but she can hear the smile in her voice.

“It’s not my fault he can’t stomach my erotic poetry.”

Rey’s eyebrows raise. “I’m terrified to ask if you’ve been practicing.”

His smirk widens. “One day, I’m going to get that man to crack.”

“You’ve been terrorizing him,” Rey admonishes. “No wonder he wants to switch rooms.”

“Is that what he told you?” Ben tsks, “don’t worry, Sweetheart, he gets me back plenty. The curse of these thin walls goes both ways.”

Rey’s nose scrunches up. “Gross.”

Ben shrugs, “Hey, we could always give him a taste of his own medicine.” His tone is suggestively taunting, and his smirk is absolutely devilish.

Rey feels a blush cross her cheeks at his implication. It’s a good thing she’s mastered the art of evading his sexual jokes. “I think you’ve already done enough to the poor man.”

“Pft, poor man? And what about me?” He feigns mock distress making Rey roll her eyes.

And even though her pulse is practically _vibrating_ in response to him, for the first time since they’d started these sessions, she goes over and sits next to him on the couch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean…come on now… how may more hints will it f*cking take?? Idiots in love is my favorite form of self-inflicted masochism. But hey… they HUGGED 😳
> 
> Though I still think every verbal spar they’ve had yet is almostttt better than sex…well, you can let me know if we ever get there (jk… we will get there…it’s written already 👀)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3), where I post updates and little nuggets about this fic every now and then…


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos/comments. They're making progress and I know this chapter won't give you _exactly_ what you want - I can ensure in the next few chapters it will! 
> 
> When I did research for this fic, Ben's recovery in rehab was 8-12 weeks - for those that are curious, I have made this the estimate of time he and Rey have spent together. 
> 
> I only know what I know about blindness as a terminal illness, the rehab and recovery, and any of those logistics based on Google. I hope it doesn't disappoint too much.
> 
> Thank you THANK YOU for reading and enjoying this journey with me ❤️

Two weeks go by, and Rey is brimming with anxiety once again. She thought acknowledging that they were friends would be the end of it, that whatever else would slowly and seamlessly fall into place.

However, here she was, on the verge of exploding with pent-up energy. 

Being friends with Ben was great. It had resolved a lot of things. For one, he only teased her eighty percent of the time as opposed to their whole session. However, he had upped his use of sexual innuendos and flirtatious metaphors. She supposed, to him, that was something people who were friends did? Or, even though they were friends, he was still a prick and still enjoyed saying anything he could just to get a blush to rise to her cheeks?

And even though he couldn't see her, he always seemed to _know_ when he affected her. 

That wasn’t the problem though, no. There were issues far greater than that. Issues Rey had not been prepared for.

And ever since that hug, it was like a dam had broken, and he now took every opportunity he could to _touch_ her.

First, it began when he started greeting her at the door every time she arrived. He was always there waiting for her. He’d open the door like he’d been expecting her, and then he’d let her inside. A habit had begun to form, where he’d rest his hand on the back of her neck. The first time he did it, she nearly jumped out of her own skin. Ben’s response had been, “I need you as my human cane unless you’d prefer to be sadistic and watch me inch my way back to the couch.”

She had argued that he had his non-human cane to help with this. She had yet to get an answer to why he deemed it useless during these door greetings. Or the fact that he seemed to make it to the door just fine without it.

The second change, was that she now spent her time reading beside him on the couch. They wouldn’t touch, but his arm would always end up stretched over the back of the couch right around her shoulders. Her eyes would dart to his giant hand as it rested inches from her. 

Then there was that one time when she felt his fingers graze her shoulder. It was _hardly_ a brush, but she felt it travel straight from where he touched her and scorch through every vein in her body.

Throughout her visits, she had begun to wish that hand would stretch a bit further, maybe possibly graze her neck before she’d shake the ridiculous thought away and continue to read with a hot flush tinging her skin.

This type of…yearning only got worse with each visit. Every time his hand would rest on the back of her neck, or his thumb would absently stroke the bone at the top of her spine, Rey’s insides would jolt at the sensation, and it would buzz through her, shocking every part of her nervous system, before ultimately, settling at the crux between her legs.

These arousing feelings were beginning to become unbearable and wholly inconvenient. 

She knew it was a problem when she’d lie awake at night. When she’d imagine those hands grazing her in other places…

And while Pride and Prejudice was by no means a sexual novel compared to the last book they read, every heated argument between them whenever Ben would interrupt the reading had Rey’s palms sweaty and her insides twinging. 

Ben, from what Rey could gather, was entirely unaffected by any of this.

It’s on a Sunday in April, that Rey arrives at Ben’s room to find he’s not at the door waiting for her. Instead, Rose is there sitting with him at the table and taking some vitals. 

“Hey, Rey!” Rose greets as she unwraps the sleeve of the blood pressure monitor. 

Rey looks on at the two of them curiously. “Hey, everything alright?”

Rose nods gleefully. “Oh yes, Ben got some great news this weekend!” She says happily. “I’ll let you tell her,” she gestures to Ben.

When Rey glances at him, he doesn’t look as happy as Rose’s tone would suggest. His mouth is set in its firm grimace, and she watches as they twitch slightly, like he wants to chew them, but is fighting against the urge. 

“I passed my physical and scored high on my aptitude test,” Ben grumbles.

Rose, seeming oblivious to Ben’s grumpiness, or decides he’s being modest, springs the news. “Ben’s now clear to finish his rehabilitation at home,” she says brightly. 

Rey’s eyes widen. “That’s—wonderful, that’s really great news, Ben,” she says with a lightness that she doesn’t feel. She understands now, why he isn't in as high of spirits as someone else might be in his shoes.

She doesn’t want to think she’s being entirely selfish in believing the reason has a little to do with their visits—but it’s the first thing that comes to her mind.

“Leia should be arriving in the next couple of hours to pick him up. Maybe you can help sort some of his stuff?” Rose suggests while she moves about the room, collecting the empty gauze packets and antiseptic along with Ben’s file from the table. 

Rey smiles tightly at the woman. “Sure.” 

“Congrats, Ben. Hope you have a great rest of your recovery, and feel free to come visit us anytime.” Rose winks at Rey before she walks out of the room.

There’s an awkward silence once she leaves. Rey opens her mouth and then closes it. She repeats the action. Her brain lacking the words to say more.

Ben exhales deeply through his nose. “So…”

The silence hangs in the air again.

“That’s—really great news, Ben. It will be nice to get out of the rehab setting. A change of pace.”

“I’m going to be living with my mom for the next few weeks, or however fucking long,” Ben grumbles. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it _nice_. It’ll be like I’ve reverted to being a fucking fifteen-year-old.”

That bit of news is surprising. Rey’s eyebrows raise. “You’re going to move in with your mum?”

Ben’s shoulder hikes up as if the reminder is unsettling to him. “After the good diagnoses on Friday, she offered almost immediately.” He sighs, “I thought about it, and I thought about what you said—even though you shouldn’t take much credit for it—and it seemed like a better option compared to going back to a studio with a minefield of canvases, paint buckets, and whatever else I left lying around for floor space."

She feels herself smiling. “I’m taking all the credit. I influenced Ben Solo to offer an olive branch. I’d say that’s something to be proud of.”

He makes an aggrieving sound but doesn’t argue with her. The lack of snarky rebuttal has her questioning. 

Rey stares at him. “But this is…good, right? It will be nice to have a bit more of your freedom back. Spend some more time with your mum? It'll give you a chance to try and work things out.”

He sighs, “maybe. I can think of a few reasons why it will suck compared to this place,” Ben replies, but he doesn’t elaborate. 

Rey thinks she might go insane if they stay there in another bout of awkward silence. “Well, I can read to you until your mum comes. We’re almost done with the novel—I’d hate to leave you on a cliffhanger.”

Ben thinks about her offer for a while before he comes to some kind of decision. His head cocks to the side as he considers his words. “You could always come by sometimes—to the house—If we don’t finish the book.” He adds, hurriedly, like it would make the offer sound more reasonable.

Something about his words has Rey’s heart practically soaring within her chest. 

Because Ben still wants her to come and visit him, even though his time at the center is over, even though, technically, visiting him would not count as a part of her volunteer work anymore.

He’s asking her to visit, reason or not.

Rey smiles because she can’t contain the excited fluttering of her heart. She’s sure he’ll hear it in her voice, but she can’t seem to care. “Yes, I would like that.”

She watches the way his lips quirk before he tries to shield the reaction with unaffected coolness. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Rey imitates, and the smile is still there and going strong.

Ben pushes his chair back and stands from the table. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you,” he mutters, thoughtfully, as he walks over to the couch.

“What for?” She moves to follow him.

His back is turned to her, so when he speaks quietly, she has to strain to hear him. “For putting up with my shit. For being my friend.” He turns and sits on the couch. 

Rey smiles as she nestles beside him. Her knees tuck up, and she pulls the book out of her tote. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m about to unload a heaps worth of romance on you,” she teases.

Ben sighs dramatically, “as long as it isn’t porn, I think I can withstand the torture.” His mouth cracks into a smirk.

“Prick,” Rey says as she blushes.

-

By the time they finish the novel, Leia still hasn’t arrived. 

Ben is scowling and makes an annoyed sound when Rey reads the last line. “So, they’re all just happily ever after? They get their rich husbands, and it’s true love, and all is fucking good in the world?”

Rey looks over at him incredulous. “Are you a cynic of happily ever after? I’m shocked Ben, truly.” She bites her lip through the sarcasm, enjoying the way his jaw shifts in irritation. 

Ben makes an aggravated growling sound. “Argh, it’s just so _cheesy_. It’s…everyone is just happy in the end? And the mother—all she cares about is fucking money and prestige.”

“It’s a novel. It’s fiction. They’re allowed to all be happy if Jane wants them to be. You’re angry because their mum was glad that two of her daughters would be well off, in a time when society made women to be property of their husbands? It’s a realistic characterization,” Rey argues.

“Right, well the way people act hasn’t changed much. You know, pride, prejudices? People still have that, even now. People still act stupid and selfish for money and status. They latch on until they suck you dry and you have nothing, and then, once they’ve had their fill, they move on like you never existed.” Ben sounds agitated. Given what she knows about him, and his past, and what happened after the accident, Rey pushes the jokes aside to study him.

“Ben—” She tries, but he ignores her.

“I’m not saying this shit for you to feel sorry for me,” he grouses, and his arms cross over his chest. “I know it’s a fantasy, and of course, Elizabeth would fall in love with him after all he did for her. Even though his methods were duplicitous and secretive. Women think the world of understated gestures. When the man has given her no reason to even tolerate him, but oh, he rescued her family from ruin, now he’s a savior—now he’s worthy.” There’s a bitterness to his words as he tears apart Darcy's big reveal.

“I think the true romanticism between Lizzy and Darcy wasn’t only because of his actions—or what he did behind the scenes for her family. There was so much more to their relationship than that. As Mr. Bennett said, Lizzy would only be truly happy if she was with a man she esteemed as an equal. I think Darcy proved that with his intelligence, his compassion, but also his devotion to a woman he truly revered. Yes, he was deemed worthy in Lizzy’s eyes, but not because he rescued her. It’s about having that mutual respect.”

Ben scoffs. “It’s easy to have mutual respect when that person is also ridiculously wealthy and accomplished and the hero she _deserves,_ ” he spits the last word as if the sound of it alone put a bad taste in his mouth.

The meaning behind his subtext finally becomes clear to Rey.

“We’re not still talking about the novel,” Rey suggests, and she can’t place what she’s feeling at this revelation. At first, it's a sort of triumph at solving the case, but then panic at what this revelation entails slowly creeps into her consciousness. That panic rises steadily with each second Ben takes to answer. 

His hand rises to his mouth, covering it, and Rey feels a tinge of hurt. She was not able to read him now that she couldn’t see his lips. Had he caught on to his own tell? 

She feels lost as she stares at him, waiting for him to reveal himself. 

She thinks he might change the subject with the way he’s hesitating to answer, but just as she’s about to let him off the hook, he replies.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, “and it’s stupid that reading a fucking romance novel just reminded me of that.” 

Rey is confused. More so because she desperately wants to know what he means and in what context. Did he not deserve her…as a friend? Or was it something else…

“What do you mean, Ben?” She asks, and she winces when she hears the tremor in her voice. 

Ben laughs to himself, his hand curls into a fist against his lips. He appears aloof when he speaks. “Rey, if I asked you out, what would you say?” He asks the question calmly and assuredly like it’s a simple one attached to a simple conversation. He asks like he already knows the answer. 

Yet, it’s panic, full-blown panic ballooning in her chest and constricting around her throat. So much so that instead of just saying yes, wholeheartedly _yes,_ instead she squeaks out, “are you asking me hypothetically?” 

Ben is quiet for a moment, and then he shrugs his shoulders. His index finger bends over his top lip, still obscured from her view. “Sure.” 

It helps, minorly. She takes a deep shaking breath. “Well, I’d probably say yes.” 

Ben hums, “but you would say yes to be polite.” He’s reasoning her answer, and he sounds so sure. “I haven’t rescued you from ruin, or done anything to give you a reason to say yes.”

He finally pulls his hand away from his face and rests it on the couch between them. Rey feels much more relieved because of it. 

She doesn’t know what sort of game they’re playing this time. Her heart won’t settle and when she looks at him, _really_ looks at him, she thinks he’s being serious. She thinks he looks just as terrified as she feels.

She wonders why they can never just say what they bloody feel.

“I think… I think I would have said yes a long time ago.” Rey whispers decidedly _not_ evading the conversation. It’s terrifying, putting the truth out there in the open, but it’s done.

He’s silent for a beat, eerily so. 

“ _Fuck,_ really?” He sounds incredulous and almost adorably disbelieving. Her breathing shallows as she feels his index finger reach out and lightly graze her knee. 

If Rey weren’t so overwhelmed by her confession, she might have slapped him.

Maybe she should slap them both. Were they really just _that_ clueless? The words rush out of her in a string of syllables. “Were you being serious about asking me out? I always thought every flirty advance was just you trying to mess with me. I thought it was all a silly game…”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Ben grumbles, and his head falls back against the couch. 

And then, suddenly, he’s much, _much_ closer to her. His hand lifts from the couch and slides firmly across her thigh.

She sucks in a breath as the heat of his palm burns her through her jeans. It’s the first time he’s touched her like _this_. It’s not casual, or fleeting, or platonic in the _least_. The weight of his hand solid and warm, and Rey sits up straighter, leans closer, wishing that hand would move further up… 

“Rey, I—”

“Knock, knock,” Leia’s voice calls as she opens the door, causing Rey to practically jump a foot in the air.

Rey watches with wide eyes as Ben pulls his hand away from her thigh and curls it into a fist. 

She looks up to see Leia walk into the room. A shorter man in a blue button-down shirt and khakis follows behind her.

Her eyes land on Rey first. “It’s nice to see you again, Rey,” she greets pleasantly.

“You too,” she forces out. Her own hands curl atop her thighs. Her body is taut with tension.

Leia doesn’t seem to notice. “I brought Beau with me to help with any of your belongings.”

Ben snorts, “from my memory of that guy, I don’t know how helpful he can be besides being a walking email notification.”

“I am standing in the room,” Beau sniffs, but his reaction seems unsurprised by Ben’s insult. 

Ben ignores him. “Lucky for him, I just have the one bag. Not very many places to go these days.”

Rey watches as the man, Beau, rolls his eyes and walks over to the bed, where she now sees the one solemn black duffle bag sitting on top of it.

“So, I take it that means you’re ready to go?” Leia asks as she looks around the room. 

Ben’s only response is a rough exhale through his nose before he leans forward and gets up from the couch.

They walk out of the room as a group. Rey follows behind them. Her stomach all in knots. 

Just as Ben steps out into the hall, Maz comes out of Chewie’s room. 

“Ah, is that Ben Solo’s brutish footfall I hear?” She chimes as she looks over at Ben. 

Rey watches as Ben bites his lip. “I thought you said I had dancers’ feet?”

Maz waves her hand frivolously. “Honey, with _those_ mammoths?” She shakes her head, laughing. “Is Rey there with you? I was being _very_ patient for my turn.”

Rey isn’t sure, but she swears the tips of his ears are slowly turning red. They appear darker in contrast to his bandages. “You don't have to worry about me stepping on your toes anymore. They’re breaking me out. Rey’s all yours.”

Maz’s face turns into one of shock. “Well, I highly doubt _that,_ ”she huffs before she reaches out and takes his arm. “Isn’t that something…in that case, you better walk me over to my table today, and you _better_ come back here for a visit. You know Chewie will miss you.” She pats his bicep as she sidles up beside him. 

“Oh, I know. His company is the only one I’ll miss from this place.” Rey watches as Maz chuckles and rests her head against his arm. She had no idea that the connection between these two had grown so exponentially. She felt her heart seize in happiness at the sight of them. 

She didn’t expect to feel so touched to see that Ben had let another person in. It was a testament to his progress since they first met.

“When I first mentioned to Ben, weeks ago, about staying at the house for the rest of his recovery, he was very against it.” Leia’s voice gravels from beside Rey bringing her attention to the older woman. “Then on Friday, _he_ was the one to suggest it.”

Rey turns to look at her in shock. “Really? He didn’t tell me that.” In fact, from what she remembers of their conversation earlier, he’d told her the exact opposite.

They begin following a few paces behind Ben and Maz. Rey glances at their backs as they walk. Ben is hunched slightly over so that Maz doesn’t have to reach up so far.

Rey finds the gesture incredibly endearing. 

“I can tell he’s changed,” Leia says as they walk. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, and it makes a blush rise to Rey’s cheeks. 

“Ben has come a long way in the time that I’ve known him,” Rey agrees. 

“He told me you still plan to come visit and continue that part of his rehabilitation. I honestly think it’s a smart idea.” Rey looks over just as Leia presents a small white card to her. Her thoughts flit around the realization that Ben had already assumed their visits would continue. Or perhaps, he had hoped. “My information is on there, so we can set up a schedule and work out compensation and all of that.”

Rey shakes her head. “Oh, no this has been volunteering for me. I don’t—I appreciate the gesture very kindly, but I’m fine continuing it as volunteer work.” She stumbles over her words, her blush even more pronounced. 

Leia is looking at her in a way Rey is having trouble deciphering, but she relents. “If you’re sure,” she still has her business card out and gives it to Rey. “You’ll still need this to set up your visits—and have Beau give you the right directions. Google Maps always screws it up.” Rey glances at the shorter man beside Leia. Honestly, she’d forgotten he was even there. 

“Thank you.” Rey takes the card with shaking fingers. After everything, and especially after what just transpired between them before the Senator interrupted, there was no way in hell Rey could imagine doing any of this for money. 

Ben pulls out a chair for Maz at her table, and she’s saying something to him, causing him to bend down to hear her. She pats his hand before she calls out, “Alright, Honey, I’ll wait here so you can say your goodbyes.” Rey is pretty sure the woman’s eyes are twinkling behind her magnifying specs. 

“I can walk you out?” She suggests, and she’s looking at Leia. The woman gives her a small smile, and Rey can’t help but feel like she’s under a microscope whenever she has the senator's attention. She wills her heart rate to calm down under the woman’s inspection. 

As they make their way to the elevators, Beau pulls out a cellphone. “Ma’am, it’s your brother calling—”

“He always has the best timing,” Ben growls sarcastically.

Leia turns to her assistant. “I’ll call him back.” She looks at Ben. “He wants to see you, Ben. He wants to make amends—” 

“Somehow, I highly doubt that,” Ben snaps, and his demeanor has changed from light and carefree and joking good-naturedly with Maz, to this darker, angrier shadow. Rey looks at his mouth, where his lips are set in that rigid solid line. “He hasn’t so much as said a word to me, but now that I’m entering back into your life, he has to make sure I don’t fuck anything up—”

Leia sighs, “Ben, I wish you would try to see it from a different perspective.”

“I do see it from a different perspective,” Ben clips, “ _his_ perspective.”

Leia sounds tired when she replies, “Let’s not get into this argument right now. I’ll table his visit, but you both are going to have to face each other at some point.”

The ding of the elevator signals the end of the conversation. Beau moves to enter first, and he stands there like a dutiful aid as his arm reaches out and holds the door open.

It’s then that Ben turns to Rey for the first time since his mother interrupted them, yet again. 

She watches as he presses his lips together in that way that indicates he’s not sure what to say. With their current audience, everything on her mind seems too personal to divulge. 

After another beat of silence, he smacks his lips. “Visit soon, okay?” 

Her head begins nodding hurriedly. “Definitely.”

Rey’s eyes don’t leave his face as the elevator door begins to close slowly between them. She takes in his bandaged eyes, his crooked nose, and the small slant up of his lips. She swears, even though it’s not possible, he’s looking directly at her. 

She imagines he’s looking at her with a whole slew of new emotions—and it’s _different_ somehow. They’re different. 

The butterflies swarm insistent in her gut even as she sits down beside Maz for their usual Sunday session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) 😘


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quicker update before the new year because I CAN'T WAIT! I'm sorry if I have you pulling your hair out right about now, but after they spend one(1) more chapter dancing around each other with their little pining hearts I promise next update will be worth your while 💋
> 
> As per usual, any of the blindness stuff is from my research on the internet--but I do my best to empathize with Ben and his emotions as best I can when I write him.
> 
> Some new faces this chapter 😄 Thank you so much for reading -

Rey stares up at the house from the gravel driveway for a good ten minutes. She had to take an Uber from the bus station because this house was far from the main road. It had been an experience in itself. It was a good thing Beau had sent her an email with explicit instructions. She’d had to relay them verbatim to the bemused Uber driver, otherwise, they might have ended up in Virginia with the way the GPS had them going. 

She had no idea places like this existed so close to D.C. It almost feels like she’s back in the English countryside. Birds are chirping happily in the trees, and there’s a far-off sound of a lawnmower humming in the distance. She hears the gravel crunch under her sandals as she shifts her weight. 

“Right,” she whispers to herself absently before she walks up to the front door.

She wills her nerves to steady as she rings the doorbell. It had only been a week since Ben left Ajan Kloss. It had been a week since they’d sat there on the couch admitting… _feelings_ that they had yet to address. 

Rey found every night following to be fitful and sleepless. Her thoughts revolving around Ben, and her confession, and the way his hand had gripped her thigh…

She’s waiting for almost a minute in her maelstrom of thoughts before the door opens and a woman with sharp, birdlike features answers the door.

“Hello?” She greets.

Rey nods in greeting. “Hello, I’m Rey. I’m here to see Ben Solo?” She asks the unfamiliar woman. She had been expecting to see Leia, but now judging by the size of the house, and the memory of Leia’s political standing, it suddenly makes sense that there would be various people here.

The woman’s eyes light up in recognition, and she smiles. “Oh, of course. Leia had mentioned you. Come in!” She opens the door wider to allow Rey inside. “I’m Darcy, one of Leia’s top Legislative Correspondents. I don’t usually work out of the office, at least not on Sundays. You probably won’t see much of me, but it was nice to meet you.” She turns to wink at Rey before walking further into the house, leaving Rey with no choice but to follow her.

They walk down a narrow hall that opens up into a large kitchen. “There have been a few new faces since Ben came back last week,” Darcy mentions as they walk through the kitchen and then down another hall leading to a separate part of the house. Rey looks around with fleeting eyes at the expanse of everything. There are so many rooms…

When she looks over at where Darcy is waiting for her, she sees a knowing smile on her lips. “Sorry, it’s just—”

“A big house, I know,” Darcy says coyly, and her head nods through the doorway in front of her. When Rey stands beside her, she sees another hall, this one not as long, but it looks to lead to a living space. “He’s down through there,” Darcy intones as her hand motions down the hall. “If you need help finding anything, just holler.”

Rey nods as she peers down the hall. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Darcy says, and then she’s walking swiftly back from whence they came.

A grumpy voice shouts down the hall that is unmistakably Ben’s. A smile pulls at Rey’s lips as she walks down the hallway and into the room. 

“Alright, Solo—not long now before these wraps come off, for good.”

She’s surprised to see another person there standing beside Ben. The man’s head whips towards her, and a cheeky smile slides onto his face. 

“You’ve got a visitor?” The man’s crisp Irish accent catches Rey by surprise. 

Rey takes him in and realizes he’s wearing matching clothes that now obviously look like scrubs. He’s holding a blood pressure armband in one hand and has a stethoscope around his neck. 

“Hello, I’m Armitage Hux, but you can just call me Hux. I’m Ben’s in-home caretaker. I am told you will be coming by for weekly visits.”

Ben growls, interrupting Rey from introducing herself. “You’re not going to end up having much to do. I already told you. My mother is just being over-cautious. And you’re _not_ my caretaker. You’re a fucking babysitter…”

Hux’s eyes glance over to Ben before they swoop back to Rey and widen comically. “Babysitters are caretakers too. Are you suggesting you’re a child in need of a nap?” His fist lifts to his cover mouth, and he silently chuckles as he mocks his patient. Rey can’t help but smile at his jovial attitude, and the way he seems to already be accustomed to handling Ben. 

“You fucker—”

“So,” Rey interrupts with the same cheeriness as Hux. “How has it been, being at home?” She walks further into the room and goes to sit on the couch next to where Ben is in the armchair. 

The room is large, with a big fireplace surrounded by a sitting area. It’s almost similar to a big studio attached to this mansion of a house. There’s a table with chairs by the window and a bed nestled in the corner across the way. In the hall before Rey had entered the room, she saw a second guest room and the washroom. It almost was like Ben had his own apartment away from the rest of the house. It was a setup Rey would not complain about, especially when she thinks of her own 100 square foot studio, with a leaky faucet and upstairs neighbors that must wear clogs for slippers.

“It’s not my home,” Ben says calmly, but strictly as he leans back in his chair and then he sighs, instantly deflating. 

Rey rests her elbow on the back of the couch. “It’s nicer than any home I’ve ever had. How about a luxurious hotel stay, then?” She suggests, and she watches as Hux mills about the room, collecting things and placing them on a tray on the table.

“Okay kids,” he says as he gathers the tray. “I’ll leave you to it until after lunch. Maybe you and Rey can take a walk and eat on the veranda today. It’s gorgeous weather out.” Hux suggests, and then he’s walking out of the room. 

Rey turns to look at Ben and grins. “I like Hux,” she comments humorously, and Ben scoffs. 

“Yeah, well, he’s a pain in my fucking ass. Of course, you would like him,” he grumbles before sitting forward in his chair and slowly getting up. 

Rey watches him curiously, about to ask what he’s doing before she watches him walk a little hesitantly towards the couch. He’s not entirely ungraceful. His large torso swoops down to touch the back of the couch, which gives him a better spatial grasp of his surroundings before he sits down heavily beside her. 

He shifts, and she can’t decide if he’s doing it to get more comfortable or if it’s a ploy to inch closer to her.

Her grin widens considerably as she watches him nestle beside her. There’s a nervous fluttering in her stomach as she feels the nearness of his body, even though they aren’t touching.

It feels comfortable and right.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly and without snark. His hand slowly reaches out across the back of the couch until he finds her shoulder. 

Rey feels her cheeks heat at his delicate touch. “Me too.” Her every attention is attuned to the way his fingers lightly graze against the exposed skin of her shoulder. It was a warmer spring day, and she’d opted for a lilac sundress. 

She waits anxiously for whatever he’s about to say next. 

He looks thoughtful as his thumb strokes a swipe at the edge of her collarbone, but then he releases a resolved breath before he pulls away—much to Rey’s chagrin. “So, what’s the plan for today?” 

Rey struggles to keep her thoughts in order. She pushes her mild disappointment to the back of her mind. “I—I’m not sure, we haven’t picked another book to read. I’m hesitant to suggest any more romance to you or drama. I think we’ve had enough of that to last quite a while.” She rests her arm over the back of the couch, leaning her head against her hand as she peers at him. “Besides, as you said before, I don’t have to read to you all the time—we can just hang out.” She doesn’t know why saying the words makes a blush rise to her cheeks, but she would very much like for his hand to reach back out and caress her some more. Maybe they could finally put a name to this tension between it and end it for good.

“Hang out? I don’t think I ever suggested that.” He’s teasing her, and it makes her laugh shakily at the awkwardness she feels. He makes a disapproving noise. “ _Argh_ , this is weird. I’m not sure what to do when you’re not yelling at me or reprimanding me all the time.”

Rey leans back, indignant. “I don’t yell or reprimand you all the time—hardly at all.” She argues. “You just aren’t comfortable not being verbally combative with whichever poor soul you come across.”

“Jesus, verbally combative? Is this the eighteenth century? Are you rereading that awful prejudiced book again?”

Rey stares at him. “You see, you’re doing it. Right now. Being verbally combative.” She says in as serious a tone as she can muster. The smile breaks through, however. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to try and contain it.

Though, it's not like he can see it. 

Ben smirks, still looking straight ahead. “Aw yeah, but see?” He says, and his voice has gone to a lower decibel. It sounds sultry almost, and Rey is not prepared for it. “You like it, though. I can tell you’re smiling.”

Rey’s face falls into confusion even though her body has positively come to life at the rumbling sound of his voice. “How can you possibly know that?” Her brow furrows. 

Ever the insufferable prick, Ben just smirks. “I’m psychic,” he replies irritatingly, as he taps two fingers against his temple. “And I’m a much better one than you.”

“I’m not a psychic. I’m training to be a therapist,” she argues with mild contempt.

“Aren’t they basically the same thing?”

Rey feels the itch in her fingers to strangle him. “They are _not_ similar,” she balks, offended. “Psychics have no actual educational background to stand on. They’re the antithesis of psychological cognizance, let alone the fact that they turn their noses up at actual science—” She stops when his silent chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. 

“Jesus, Rey, you know I’m just fucking with you.” It takes him a moment to calm down. Ben shakes his head. “So, I guess you were right about my verbally combative streak. It’s way too enjoyable tormenting you than anything else.”

Rey huffs indignantly at his teasing. Jyn’s words from a few weeks ago, about men and their inability to flirt without acting childish, rings in her ears. That feeling of uncertainty flushes within her as she imagines this as his way of flirting. 

Everything between them—as far as romance—is so unclear. At least to Rey. And for all her bravery, for some reason, she’s chicken shite when it comes to addressing it.

Given that just last week, when they had confessed _some_ feelings towards each other, wasn’t there more that had to be discussed? 

“So, what’s for lunch then, psychic?” She asks petulantly instead, and he chuckles at her.

“It would be unfair to lead you on, but I did choose what we’re having, so my psychic abilities do not apply here.”

“You’re a prick, you know that?”

He smirks at her, and a small part of her is disappointed at how easily that little quirk of his lips makes her resolve crumble. “Yeah, but I’m a psychic prick, Sweetheart.”

-

The long hallways feel even longer when Rey has to walk beside Ben through them to get to the veranda. Each hall is lined with a long Persian runner that Rey imagines must cost more than a year's rent on her apartment. They walk slowly, and Ben uses his cane since he’s not yet confident with navigating through the house just yet. 

The halls are narrow. So unless Rey wants to rub her shoulder against the wall or walk behind Ben, she has to stand close enough that if she wanted to, she could hook her arm in his elbow. She goes back and forth, debating if she should touch him or not. 

She doesn’t have to debate it for long, because as they’re halfway down the hall, she feels Ben’s hand trail slowly down her back. His hand lands where her shoulders meet before he rests his palm against the small dip above her hips.

Her skin tingles at the contact. 

“If I remember correctly, there used to be an awful painting in this hallway, right by the door,” Ben comments as they continue down the long expanse. His hand presses against her back as they walk forward, and she turns her face to look at him, curious to see if he is just as affected as she is.

He’s as cool as stone, however. A façade not so easy to crack—at least when it came to showing vulnerability. Rey finds herself a bit disappointed, seeing as she’s pretty sure her whole body is throbbing with the beat of her accelerated heart rate. 

“It’s a painting of a bear and a soldier. The bear has him by the leg, and two other soldiers are poking at him with lances. I used to think it was really graphic to have in the hall everyone had to walk through to get to the dining room. A gruesome precursor to the fancy five-course meals my mom would serve,” he mutters the memory, and it sounds like a sour one. “I think that’s why I hated realism, because of all the shitty art in this house.”

Rey looks over to where Ben has motioned, and indeed, the graphic bear painting is, in fact, still there. “This painting is probably a couple of hundred years old,” she remarks as she tries to peer at the scribbled signature at the bottom.

Ben nods. “It’s probably worth a couple of your psychic degrees.”

She rolls her eyes, turning to face him, causing his hand to fall away from her back. It’s an act of pure instinct, the way her hand reaches up and pinches his shoulder. Why was it so much easier to touch him when cross? 

He reacts mockingly, pretending to shy away from her, but the hallway is much too narrow for that. So instead, he’s pressed up against the opposite wall. His arm lifts help him find his awareness within his surroundings.

The motion happens so quickly. From his grasp, gravity pulls Rey into him in a way that has her falling against his chest and forcing him into the opposite wall before she can steady herself.

She looks up at him in surprise. There’s a solid smirk resting on his lips as he leans back against the wall. Her hand rests over his chest, and she can feel the solid thump of his heartbeat. His head lightly falls back, exposing the tendons in his throat, and Rey feels a compulsion to press her lips against it.

Her eyes track the way he swallows before he clears his throat. “Mm, sorry, I _meant_ therapist.” His chest rumbles under her palm, and it brings her back to her senses.

She pushes back against his chest as she rights herself, dropping her hand immediately. The blush that rises is hot and surely, bright red. 

“I am sorry,” He says again, a tinge more apologetic this time. “You’ll be very good at what you do if I’m anything to go by.”

Rey steps away from him and shoots him a confused look. “Meaning?”

Even though he’s leaning there, he still looks impossibly tall. He towers over her in the narrow space surrounding them. She feels her blush spread as she imagines _him_ crowding her in the corridor. 

Ben rolls his head against the wall, and it’s terribly boyish and undoubtedly attractive. 

“Well, I’m much nicer now,” he jokes, and his mouth remains slightly open as he prepares to continue. “...and much happier.” The humor is less so when he says this.

It makes Rey pause, an unexpected emotion floods through her chest. “Because of me?” She asks because some hidden part of her needs to hear him say it needs to know that she has value, that she isn’t useless.

Ben makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds affirmative but croaks at the last second to sound like ‘meh’. “I think it was more the soft-core literary porn, a genre of literature I never thought I would enjoy _so_ much.” And then he grins fully at her, and if he wasn’t so dumbly adorable, she would probably have pinched him again. 

She shakes her head before walking past him. “I’m not walking with you anymore,” she sniffs as she starts to make her way down the hall. It would be a better power move if she knew where she was going.

But it has the intended effect.

“I said I was sorry,” Ben pouts as he pushes off the wall and trails behind her. “The veranda is to the right,” he calls behind her as she walks straight ahead.

His suggestion makes her stop, but she does it without warning, and she really should know better by now. She can’t blame everything on the small confines that surround them. 

Ben walks right into her, and this time his hands grasp around her waist as his chest presses against her back.

“Jesus, a little warning next time, Sweetheart,” he grunts as he stabilizes. She can feel his amusement as he hovers above her. 

Her back feels incredibly hot against his front. “Sorry,” she practically squeaks, and the embarrassment flows through her entire body. Rey doesn’t know where her head is at, but it’s possible it’s been overloaded by Ben and the continued escalation of bodily contact between them, and the fact that there seems to be no reprieve from the tension. It may kill them before it gets resolved. “Who made hallways this narrow and confusing?”

Ben huffs behind her, still close and still touching. She feels his breath blow against the shell of her ear, ruffling the flyaway strands around her nape. She shivers at the sensation.

“Smaller people from the Eighteenth Century,” he replies gruffly. “Thank my mother for choosing to live in an archaic Georgian home only meant for people her size and under.” His hands are still on her waist, and very gently, he starts to rotate her around to the right, facing her towards the open archway that leads to a slightly wider hallway with a stairwell. “Through there and to the left.” His voice wafts gently against her ear again, and she wills herself not to shudder.

She full-on admits to herself that these reactions have become much more difficult to contain as of late.

Rey starts to walk forwards, keeping his directions in mind. She hears him chuckle behind her. “We should play a game, where you’re blindfolded, and we’ll see who can make it through the maze first.” He sounds conniving as he follows her.

“You would have an unfair advantage, having lived here all your life,” Rey mumbles as she spots two large quarter-paned glass doors the lead out to a widespread patio. 

Ben hums. “We’ll start with something else then, something smaller. Should we eat lunch blindfolded? You should see how the other half lives, Sweetheart,” he teases as he takes the door from where she’s half-opened it and holds it open for her. “I think it would be fun.”

“Fun for you, I’m sure,” Rey grumbles as she steps out onto the patio. “And likely at my expense.”

Patio was not the right word for the expanse that was the backyard. The first portion was covered with a green and white striped rollout awning only rolled out partway. A short, brick wall stood between the extensive patio and down a few steps to a grander plateau of brick and perfectly symmetrical portions of garden shrubs and flowers. There was a greenhouse to the far right, and it looked to be about the size of a comfortable one-bedroom home.

The long wooden table was set for two on one end. The rollout awning drew back just enough to allow the afternoon sun to bask over them. 

Despite his teasing, Rey goes over without a word and pulls his chair out for him. When he hears the scrape of the legs against the brick, he goes to sit. His fingers skim along the edge of the table as he waits for her to push the chair back in.

“You’re not going to pull it out from under me at the last minute for being an asshole, are you?” He’s joking, but he at least has the decency to appear apprehensive.

“Don’t tempt me,” Rey says cheerily, as she pushes the chair back in and under him. 

As she goes to sit down in the seat adjacent to him, a short, smaller man steps out on the patio with a tray in hand. 

“Master Ben,” he says in a phonetic and clipped British accent as he comes around and places a water glass and a cup of tea in front of him. “Your tea, as was advised by Mr. Hux.” The man turns to her. “Is there anything particular you would like to drink, miss?”

Rey blinks at the man, startled at being served like this. “Uh, I’ll have tea as well, thank you?”

The man nods. “We have quite a robust selection. There is black tea, green tea, chamomile tea, rooibos tea, oolong tea—”

“Black, black tea would be great,” Rey interrupts him, her eyes wide as he prattles on about the various dairy additions and regular sugar versus brown sugar cane. 

“Yeah, and I’ll have a cup of coffee Threepio, black,” Ben says, which makes the man—Threepio whip around. 

He looks sternly at Ben. “Caffeine is not on the list of the approved foods and beverages, Master Ben.” 

Ben frowns. “Says who? Was it that fucking nursemaid prick—” 

“I think we’re fine with just water,” Rey interrupts as she watches the man’s expression harden at his patron. 

Threepio straightens up, pulling at the lapels of his blazer. “Lunch will be served shortly,” he says shortly before walking back inside the house.

Rey turns to him then, and she wants to admonish him, but there’s something else much more pressing that she wants to mock him for. “You are so one-to-bloody-talk about pretentiousness, _Master_ Ben.”

Ben makes a disapproving sound, and he lifts the teacup that had been set beside him. There is a centerpiece between them, a short and bulbous pot filled with wildflowers. Rey watches as Ben reaches out and dumps his tea into the pot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re being childish,” Rey reprimands, but Ben just shrugs as he places the cup back down, sliding it lightly around the table until he finds the saucer. 

“Lunch is served,” Threepio hails as he places two plates in front of them. “Classic Maine lobster roll for the lady, and steamed lobster knuckle salad with fresh broccolini and without butter for Master Ben.”

Ben growls, and he sounds almost petulant. “Why does she get a lobster roll, and I’ve got the watered-down version of Crudités?”

“The broccolini is cooked, Sir,” Threepio says as a dispute to Ben’s comment about Crudités. “Mr. Hux advised staying away from trans fats.”

“The bastard is just fucking with you, you know. And it’s just because he wants to fuck with me.”

“Sir, it is all in the consciousness of your health!” The butler replies with concern. “We all just want what is best for you!” Then he storms off, seemingly offended.

“That was quite rude, being so mean to him. He obviously cares a lot about you,” Rey comments as she looks down at the delicious smelling roll stuffed with shredded bits of lobster in a crème sauce and garnished with some fancy herb spiraled on top. She’s never had something so fancy before. The only time she’d ever had seafood like this was when she went to that crab shack with Finn when his parents came to visit the one time. It might have been the best meal she’d ever had, and it certainly had been the most expensive.

She still remembers, with an unfamiliar ache in her chest, how it felt when Finn’s mother insisted they were taking her out as thanks for being such a great friend to their baby boy. She’d almost cried right there in the restaurant, and she remembers the way Finn held her hand and told her that she was worth being cared for.

Ben is quiet for a moment, and Rey glances over to him to see his lips shuffling, thinking. 

“This smells incredible,” Rey says as the smell wafts through her nostrils.

“Just twist the knife, why don’t you?” Ben grumbles as he reaches for his fork.

Rey bites her lip against her smile. “I’ve never had lobster before.” The comment brings a wave of déjà vu over her as she recalls the similar conversation she had at the rehab center with Poe and the new patient Kaydel…

The same day Ben had stormed off when he thought she was accepting a date with Poe…

Rey lifts the open sandwich to her lips and takes a bite. She has to lean forward over her plate to keep the bits of lobster from falling to the floor.

She makes a soft moaning sound as the mix of fluffy, buttery lobster and the crunch of the toasted roll assault her taste buds.

“How is it?” Ben asks, and his question had a tinge of longing…and maybe a dash of nervousness? Rey notices he hasn’t touched his food yet.

Rey licks at the stray drop of sauce that remained on her lips. “Well I don’t want to gloat,” she says with mild humor.

“I’m already tortured daily by living here. I can take it,” he says, and it seems like he genuinely wants to know. All smoke and mirrors aside, there are parts of Ben Solo that shock Rey in the subtleness of their vulnerability whenever they decide to show themselves.

He waits and looks calm, but it’s the way his bottom lip twitches just slightly that tips Rey off to his anxiousness.

Rey doesn’t want to hope that he did all of this just to impress her.

“It tastes bloody incredible,” she admits, and she takes another bite. “Mmph, I almost feel bad enjoying it so much, but steamed lobster salad? That’s not something to pout about Ben,” she says pointedly. 

“Hux just wants you to think they feed me nice things. Usually, it’s crap that’s closer to actual rabbit food.” 

“I’m sorry they’re being so horrible to you,” Rey teases, dripping with sarcasm.

“How about you offer me a bite of yours as an apology?”

And that makes Rey smile wider than her face can allow. She feels it strain against her cheeks. 

“Not a chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate you making it through 4k words of this G damn tension. _Sheesh_ The comment response for this fic have been the most inspiring and more than probably got me in the writing groove, so thank you! If you like this and have any comments to share, just knowing that you are really enjoying this makes me so SO stoked, and I'm so very grateful to you all.
> 
> I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3).


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _oof_ I am nervously excited to share this chapter with you guys. After 12 chapters of flirting, banter, pining, slowly burning into crispy ash...I give you this...and I hope it doesn't disappoint
> 
> Same old disclaimer, the logistics of Ben's recovery is not fully accurate medically I'm sure, but he is making progress!!
> 
> Thank you to everyone to who has taken the time to read these two dummies and love them with me. It's been an amazing writing experience 💕

“Hey Rose,” Rey greets the nurse as she steps out of the elevator that Thursday. 

“Ooh Rey, come here for a sec,” the short nurse calls over as she bends down to grab something from behind the desk. “Ben left this in his room. Figured he might want it—it’s a Bang & Olufsen. I looked it up just by curiosity, and  _ damn _ , these things cost like a month's salary.”

Rey’s eyes widen as she looks at the modern speaker Rose has set inside of a Whole Foods shopping bag. She recalls Ben’s initial, and mostly negative, sentiments for the thing. She has a sneaking suspicion he might have left it on purpose. 

“You’re still visiting weekly, right?” Rose asks, and there’s a hint of  _ something _ in her tone that makes Rey look up at her. 

“Uh, yeah—yeah, I can bring it to him,” Rey says as she grabs the handles off the counter. The speaker surprisingly weighs almost nothing at all, much to her surprise.

“You know…” Rose starts, and there’s a beguiling expression on her face again. “Now that Ben’s not a patient here I feel like I can tell you. He used to ask me about you all the time—about what you looked like.”

Rey’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “He—what?!”

Rose nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. He tried to be smooth about it at first. It took him almost a whole week of me changing his bandages every day and him trying to be subtle about bringing you up, for him to finally spit it out and ask. It was actually very cute.” If Rose were an emoji, Rey thinks she would resemble the heart eyes one at the moment. 

Rey doesn’t know what to make of that, but the blush rises and heats her cheeks. “What did you say?” She asks nervously.

Rose’s bangs, framing the side of her face, flutter as she tilts her head cheekily. “I said you were a hotter version of Kiera Knightly,” and then she smiles like the Cheshire cat. 

“No, you didn’t,” Rey groans in embarrassment. “That’s not even true.”

Rose gives her a pointed look. “Are you serious? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? Besides…he seemed  _ very _ impressed by my comparison.” Her eyebrows wiggle mischievously. 

Rey can’t help her curiosity. “He did?”

And Rose, who’s absolutely living for every minute of this new development, just smiles even wider. “Oh sweet, summer child, he may be blind, but with those wraps off his eyes, he can’t hide his emotions for shit.”

Rey finds herself focusing on one specific part of Rose's statement. She had been yearning for weeks to see him without the bandages. She feels a pang of envy in her gut that Rose has seen his eyes while she’s only been left to imagine it.

“As I said, it was extremely adorable,” Rose reiterates. “He’s been smiling a lot more since you’ve been around. Maz will confirm my assumptions, he is absolute ‘heart eyes’ for you.”

Rey’s blush is now in full force. 

“How has it been, visiting every week?” Rose continues, asking curiously. She’s positively bubbling with interest.

Rey wonders if the red on her cheeks is visible. “Uh, it’s good. I think he’s doing really well.”

“Probably much better with the continuation of your weekly visits,” Rose hints impishly.

It’s been happening more often, she notices, but Rey can’t seem to keep the smile from lifting to her lips when she thinks about Ben.

“I’m guessing you’ve been enjoying them just as much?” Rose continues to prod. Her smugness is inescapable. 

Rose scrunches her nose in a conspiring sort of way that makes Rey feel like they’ve forged a connection of their own. Her time at the rehab center has given her the opportunity to make more friends than she ever did at University. The thought spreads warmth throughout her chest, and the smile lifts higher, but now for more than one reason.

“Maybe.” Rey grins, and when Rose squeals, she laughs. 

-

As Rey walks up the gravel driveway to the front door, she feels a sudden trepidation weigh her legs down as she shuffles through the crackling rocks. 

Today was a pretty big day. Not just for Ben, but Rey as well.

Today would be her first time seeing him without the bandages. His whole face.

She wonders if her conversation with Rose somehow brought Rey’s one wish to fruition. She recalls her visit the week before when Ben had casually asked her if she would come earlier on that following Sunday.

“Sure, any specific reason why?” Rey asked because she was curious, and there had to be a reason.

Ben had shrugged. “Hux said the bandages officially come off next week, finally. The past examinations have gone well, and there’s a chance I’ll eventually be able to see some variations of light, but it’s not guaranteed, and…” He paused and took a breath. Rey felt apprehension at whatever he was about to say next. It felt like he was trying to share a confession that he would not divulge to just anyone. Except, he wanted to share now—and with her.

Rey held her breath as she waited for him to finish.

Ben grunted and released a long sigh before he got the words out. “I just don’t want my mother or Hux to be the only people there to say whatever bullshit they think I want to hear when it happens. I’d like—I just want someone there who won’t be fucking fake. I would like to know the truth. I know you wouldn’t lie to me.” His voice had become softer, quieter for that last bit, and it had Rey’s heart seizing.

He wanted her to be there during this pretty important event. Rey wasn’t used to that. She wasn’t used to being asked to be there for someone. She’d never been wanted like that before, and the feeling she felt as she realized he did—

It was everything to her.

The door opens before she has a chance to ring, and she blinks to see Hux smiling at her over the threshold. 

“Prompt as always,” Hux remarks as he lets her inside. “This is a pretty big day, eh?” He continues as they walk down the narrow hallways leading to Ben’s living quarters. “Are you ready?” His head turns to her slightly, awaiting her answer. Rey feels the anxious beating of her heart speed up even more.

“Uh, yes—of course,” she affirms. She hates the way her voice trembles through her nervousness.

Hux smiles lightly in understanding. “Just allow yourself to process it. You don’t need to react right away. Even though he’s going to look different than you remember, he’s still him.”

Rey thinks of correcting him. She surmises he doesn’t know that she actually didn’t know Ben…before. Regardless, Rey is more than sure that nothing about his physical appearance will change her opinion of him. 

They walk through the open door, and she sees Leia sitting there on the couch with her back ramrod straight. Ben is sitting in the armchair. His hands move around the bulbous edges of the armrests. He fidgets upright when he senses them walk into the room. Rey watches as his shoulders visibly relax when, she assumes, he realizes she’s there. 

The room is darker than usual. The sheerer inner curtains are drawn to keep the brightness of the morning light out. 

“Alright, now that we’re all here, it’s showtime!” Hux cajoles as he walks over to where Ben is seated. 

Ben’s hands grip the ends of the armrest tensely before releasing them again. 

Rey doesn’t know where to sit, so she stands behind the couch. For some reason, sitting beside Leia felt like an ill-advised decision. There is a tension permeating the room that feels thicker than smoke. Rey understands now why Ben wanted her there. 

She watches with bated breath as Hux begins to untuck the edges of the wrap from behind Ben’s left ear. It feels like the wrap goes on for ages, and Hux is very delicate while unraveling.

The gauze begins to slowly peel off each layer, indicating the nearness of the end. Rey feels her breath catch in her throat as she sees it start to loosen, and then the final loop around Ben’s head has the gauze falling away from his face.

She can’t get an immediate view of him, with Hux blocking most of it, but she hears the way Leia inhales sharply, and her gaze flicks to her before they dart back to Ben. 

The first thing she notices is that the jagged scar runs from the inner edge of his brow and across the top of his cheekbone. The skin is now healed over, but still bright pink. His eyes are still closed, and she can see from where she stands how they flutter nervously. 

Rey feels a sudden yearning to get closer, it’s almost as desperate as her desire to finally see his  _ eyes _ .

Hux crouches down so he can be at eye level with Ben. He has a damp cloth in his hand, and he uses it to wipe gently against Ben’s closed lids. “Now Ben, when you open your eyes, if you’re able to see any light, you still will be adjusting, and you may experience some sensitivity. Let’s just take this nice and easy,” he says the words calmly like he’s cautious of spooking a wild animal.

In a way, that’s exactly how Ben appears. He’s roiling with tension, maybe even nervousness for what he may, or may not see. 

Rey finds herself moving around the back of the couch. She doesn’t realize she’s done it until her leg bumps against the coffee table and she looks down, startled. She feels Leia’s gaze move to her, and when their eyes meet, she sees a woman with weathered concern etched across her every feature. 

“Rey?” She hears her name softly, and it makes her heart leap. 

It gives her an excuse to turn from his mother and walk over to where he sits. She stops beside Hux before she slowly lowers her knees to the floor so that she’s looking up at him. “I’m here,” she says reassuringly, and she feels the way her heart wrenches when she watches his lip tremble slightly. His eyes are squeezed shut. It’s what prompts her to do what she does without thinking. Her hand reaches up and rests over his own that grips the armrest like he’s attempting to crush it with his brute strength. She feels the way his hand instantly unclenches when he feels her touch. When he exhales, it’s shaky. She watches as he swallows to try and control it. The creases at the corners of his eyes lessen as his face relaxes. 

“Nice and easy, Ben,” Hux coaxes as he puts the cloth on the side table. “Give it a go.”

His inhale stutters, but the fluttering of his eyelids increases as he slowly opens them.

Rey’s eyes are glued to his as the flutters morph into stagnant blinks, and then she sees honey and auburn, and gold all vibrantly melted together.

And now it’s her, who’s breath is stuttering in her chest, as she looks into Ben Solo’s eyes for the first time.

He’s looking down towards her, to where he thinks her face might be, and he’s not so far off. She feels a sudden pang of despair as she reminds herself that there will always be that disconnect, that his eyes will never truly stare into her own.

The thought is quickly pushed away as she’s caught, once again, in the beauty of his expression. 

Rose was right. His lack of sight had little to none to do with how expressive he was when he had those honey-hued orbs looking like they did. 

His eyes continue to blink intermittently a few more times, stirring a tinge of hope to burst in Rey’s chest as she wonders if he’s able to see anything.

“It’s not…complete darkness,” he murmurs. The top and bottom parts of his eyes narrow just slightly, and his head lulls backward as if he’s trying to work something out. “It’s more like a darker grey.”

Hux smiles encouragingly beside Rey. She can see him in her peripheral, but her eyes remain locked on Ben’s. “That’s good, Ben. That’s better than we expected. And who knows, it’s possible it could improve with time.”

Ben huffs, sounding disappointed in that answer. Rey feels her thumb stroke absently against the top of his hand, and she watches as the lines at his brow visibly smoothen. 

“How—how does it look?” Ben asks hesitantly, and Rey knows the question is directed at her. Somehow, she just knows. She squeezes his hand gently about to speak, but it’s Leia who answers behind her. 

“We’ll have the best plastic surgeon in D.C. help with the scarring. It will almost be nonexistent,” Leia says with the type of diplomatic conviction that breaks whatever spell Rey had felt herself get dragged under as she stared up at Ben and his uncovered visage. Her eyes glance at the pinkish gash slashed across his face. His bandages hadn’t completely covered it from view, but seeing it now in all its glory hits different. Rey finds that she doesn’t mind it. Not at all.

She thinks that she might even find it extremely attractive on him.

Hux voices her internal thoughts, almost like he could read her mind. “It’s not so bad. Besides, women love a man with scars.” 

Rey notices how Ben’s hands, once again, clench around the armrest. 

“I guess it makes no fucking difference what it looks like. It’s not like I’ll be able to see it.” His tone is biting and rumbling with irritation. 

Leia sounds perplexed by his outburst, which doesn’t make it much better. “You still look very handsome, Ben. I was only trying—”

“To be helpful? Yeah, I’m good thanks,” Ben snarls dismissively. 

His mother huffs from where she is on the couch before Rey can hear her getting up. “Alright, I’m not pushing anything. It was only a suggestion. I’m glad the prognosis looks good.” She says, and her tone is slightly disparaging. She turns her attention on Rey, addressing her. “Rey, good luck,” she says, with exhausted admonishment. 

When Rey looks at her, she sees a woman standing there with a resigned frown, yet underneath that wall of strength, lies a peaking sliver of despair. She turns to leave the room, and her heeled footsteps echo down the hall. 

Rey wonders for whom that despair is for—if it was the grief of watching one’s child suffer through trauma and rehabilitate with a disability?

Or was it a pain strained from distance and misunderstanding from years past?

Hux shakes a bottle, and the pills rattle inside. “For any headaches,” he says as he sets it on the table. “I’ll check in after lunch.” He raises both brows at Rey as he also mouths the same ‘good luck’ to her before he walks out of the room.

It irritates her how everyone else seems so dismissive of Ben and his emotions. That they treat him like he’s an angry, over-reactive man-child—that Leia looks at him like he’s the shadow of the son she once knew.

“I don’t give a fuck about how the scar looks,” he says defiantly as the silence rings throughout the room. 

Rey turns back to look at him. She is in awe at seeing all of him like this for the first time. She nods resolutely and rises onto her knees. She places both hands over his as she affirms, “I don’t either.”

That makes a small smirk lift to his mouth. “You think it’s roguish, sexy?” He asks, and it makes her blush.

“Fishing for a compliment?” She recovers, but her heart is beating a mile a minute. 

“Then tell me the truth,” he requests, and his hands rub spherically around the edge of the armrests under hers. “How bad is it?”

Rey shakes her head. “It’s not bad,” she disagrees. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know what you looked like before. So, there’s nothing to compare you to. You might make a child cry though.” She jokes, and her lips tease into a smile as she imagines Ben’s assured grouchiness towards children.

He’s silent for a long moment. It’s amazing, looking at him now and seeing his whole face. Even though his eyes look past her, there is just  _ so _ much more to look at. It had been his only feature—aside from maybe the prominence of his ears, which had always been wrapped down and tucked away—hidden from view. It certainly felt like a disservice to Rey that they had been kept from her for so long. 

“You know, I’ve often imagined what you would look like,” he says quietly, seriously. 

It makes Rey’s smile falter, and her heart rate picks up speed again. Rose’s confession the week prior, springing to her mind.

“I had this stupid idea that when Hux took the bandages off, I would—” He breaks off, and when he breathes, his chest stutters through the thin material of his blue t-shirt. He sighs, “It was obviously fucking stupid to hope—it’s not like I haven’t opened my fucking eyes during this whole recovery—but I just thought if by some fucking miracle I would get a chance—that if I had a chance to see one thing—

“I wanted it to be you…” His voice trails off, and the way his eyes look as he says it has Rey’s breath caught in her throat and her lungs constricting tightly in her chest. 

Her mouth falls open as he continues, “If I even had…thirty seconds to look, I would’ve counted as many freckles as I could around your face. I wouldn’t have to imagine the shape of your smile anymore. I would be able to trace the image of you with the sound of your voice. And even if I only had the chance for those thirty seconds, at least I’d have the picture with me. It would be the only thing I would never forget…”

It’s almost poetic, and it’s extremely overwhelming.

Even though they are without sight, his eyes say a million things in addition to his words as they tremble with emotion. There’s a mix of longing, disappointment, and maybe even despair as his eyes stare forward. The intensity of it has her mind trying to catch up with her mouth. She isn’t able to think of any words as she remains lost in his gaze.

She had thought his mouth alone to be the window to his soul. She had no idea that seeing his whole face would give her that view and much more. His whole face was a door—a door swung wide open, and inside she could see him, all of him. 

Rey thinks Ben’s face is a masterpiece—a portrait worthy of hanging in the Louvre. 

His hands pull away from hers abruptly, and the spell breaks. “But it was fucking stupid to hope.” He grunts, and he crosses his arms over his chest. His broad shoulders curl in on themselves. He looks ten years younger, smaller. 

She thinks her own heart breaks as he pulls further away from her. Suddenly all she wants, all she wishes she could do, is grant him this one wish.

Rey isn’t thinking, and maybe because she isn’t thinking, she isn’t afraid as she rises from the floor and then slowly inches herself forward and between his legs. Even while standing, her head is only a few inches above his due to his height. 

Her hands reach out to cradle his cheeks and his eyes flutter closed. His breath sucks in sharply through his mouth. “Don’t,” she chokes as she feels an emotion overcome her. “I want to see them,” she whispers. 

His arms fall back to the armrests. The wood knobs creak under the force of his grip. He opens his eyes, and from this distance, she can now see the flecks of gold shining in the dim light, splattering his irises. 

His body trembles beneath her and his lips press together. He is nervous, barely breathing. 

Rey caresses his cheeks with her thumbs. Her left thumb travels down the pinkish sliver that runs across his face causing him to gasp softly. 

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, and there’s wetness brimming her lids as she stares down at him. “And I don’t need to have my sight to know that.”

He inhales a breath. His hands release the wood of the chair and slowly fold inward to rest at her hips before he gently tugs her forward. 

Her forearms rest against the front of his shoulders as she leans into him and her eyes slide shut.

She uses her hands as a guide to bring her closer to his face. The space around them is incredibly still. All Rey can focus on is his shallow breath as it brushes against her tear-stained cheeks. 

In the darkness behind her eyelids, she can see the shape of his mouth as clearly as though she had her eyes open. It was his one feature she knew like the back of her hand. If she were an artist, she knows she could draw it as clear as a photograph. 

Knowing what his lips look like and  _ tasting _ them, however, was something she had yet to experience. 

It’s soft, their first kiss. It ignites the fire inside of Rey that had been kindling for so long. She feels like she’s just unlocked the secret of the universe, and it intensifies when his hands on her hips reach up and slide against her neck. He sits up and cradles the back of her head, holding her against his face as he deepens the kiss.

Their next kiss is the opposite of soft. 

She feels insanely  _ protected _ being held by him like this. His hand covers the full length of her throat. His fingers brush at the hairs at her nape, holding her there.

He kisses her like he’s found water in a drought and the feeling of him is wholly encompassing. He pulls her closer, and she moves to straddle him in the chair. It creaks loudly under their combined weight, and the sound of it breaks the moment.

Ben releases her lips, but his one hand stays wound in her hair, and the other cradles her face. His breathing is labored, and it moves them both in swooping, undulating waves. 

Rey keeps her eyes closed as she breathes a laugh against his face. “I think the armchair is protesting.” 

“I’ll gladly break it and turn it into firewood,” Ben mumbles before he draws her face back against his. 

The chair creaks again as she nuzzles into his lap, but this time they ignore it. 

One of Ben’s hands moves from her head to wrap around her waist, and he attempts to pull her flush against him. His grip is iron as he holds her. Rey feels a shiver run through her. 

When he shifts beneath her, something  _ snaps _ . 

Ben pulls away, aggravated. “ _ Fuck.  _ Fucking two-hundred-year-old antique piece of shit…”

Rey is giggling as Ben curses beneath her. Reluctantly, she pushes up and off of him to give the chair some respite. 

He follows her like he’s tethered to her now that he’s tasted her. He stands up, and Rey, once again, finds herself in awe at the sight of him. 

And even though he couldn’t see her, she felt stripped down to the bone under his gaze in a way that made her legs feel like jelly.

Something had materialized between them—an understanding of sorts. It was the kind of connection that didn’t need words, that didn’t need eyes to see. It was something Rey felt deep inside of her very soul. When his hand lifts to caress her face again—his fingers splitting around her ear as they rake against her scalp, she allows herself to just  _ feel _ . He presses his lips to her brow, and she knows he feels it too. 

“I know it’s disappointing to not get what you hoped,” Rey whispered, and her eyes flutter shut. “But I’m here, and I’m going to be here—with you, even if you can’t see me—even if you never can.”

She hears the way his chest trembles as he exhales. His hand that’s in her hair slowly pulls her forward until he can fold her into his body, and he holds her there as he presses another kiss to her crown. 

His lips stay there as he slightly shakes his head against her forehead. “I’ve already got more than I could have ever hoped for,” he whispers, and he pulls away just so he can tilt his face down and capture her lips. “The only thing that will always feel like a punishment, no matter how lucky I am, is that of all the things I would never see—” he breaks off, and she can hear the pain in his voice. She feels it like a stab of ice in her chest. “—never seeing you is the one that hurts the most. I think a part of me will always wonder what you look like when you smile.” 

Rey feels a tear slide down her cheek, and she grips him tighter. One of her hands reaches down to grab his that isn’t encasing her head and brings it up to her mouth. She softly presses a kiss to the two pads of his fingertips before she attempts at a smile, and she draws those fingers against her lips. 

When he realizes what she’s doing, a smile of his own drifts upwards like a shadow, making her smile widen. 

She presses his fingers against her dimples. “There,” she says softly. “It’s not the same, but maybe it can be enough?”

He’s still smiling as he nods almost imperceptibly against her hair. He pulls back and cradles her cheeks with both hands. The look in his eyes scorches her. “It’s more than enough.” 

And when he kisses her again, Rey is still smiling with only one thought running through her mind on a repeated loop:

Ben Solo deserves happiness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh they KISSED 😍 I mean.... FINALLY right?!
> 
> If you have been enjoying this so far, please let me know! I love reading the comments, they are a serious writers boost!
> 
> You can also freak out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) where I also sometimes post teasers and fic updates!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic and for enjoying it so far!! This has been the most amazing fic writing experience so far since I started just this September! The comments and reception for this has been amazing and a total writers boost. I know this week has been rough for many of us, so hopefully this can help brighten the end of an otherwise stressful week. This is a fluff chapter and nothing else.
> 
> I've updated the chapter count to the official number now that this is pretty much set. I have two chapters half written, but otherwise this fic is pretty much complete! Also, even though this chapter is fluff, the fic is an angst slow burn, and while we finally had them kiss, there is still a little story left for them before we get to their happy ending. 
> 
> Aaaand I finally grew a pair and sought a beta, so thank you Rush for helping me work through some plot kinks 💕

They’re having tea on the veranda that following Sunday. Ben had convinced Rey to sneak one sugar cube in without Threepio noticing.

He had also, somehow, convinced her to take her tea while sitting in his lap.

“If you’re not careful, I’m going to spill, and it’s going to scald you,” Rey scolds as Ben’s hands firmly hold her waist.

She tries to withhold her gasp as he nuzzles his nose into her neck before pressing a kiss there. Her grip tightens on the handle of her teacup. 

He goes back to the cheeky little game they’d been playing before Threepio served them tea.

“Hmm,” he hums as his hand comes up to stroke her arm. “Will you tell me what you’re wearing?” He asks the recurring question, and Rey shakes her head. 

“Nope. I told you, if you really want to know, you have to guess.” 

His fingers pull at the thin polyester material at her shoulder. “You’re wearing a red blouse with flowers on it.” He sounds confident.

“How can you possibly guess the color by feel?” Rey contests. 

“It’s my favorite color,” he responds before he pauses and adds a bit more quietly, “or—it was.”

She is about to tease him and argues that she thought his favorite color was, in fact, black. As it was the only color she could recall him wearing. That—or maybe the occasional dark blue. Her smile drops as she looks down at herself and her navy top. “I’m rather boring. I don’t own much that would be considered vibrant.”

He shrugs in response, his arms curling around her waist. “Doesn’t have to be. There are plenty of dark or muted reds.” He leans closer to her, and his nose skims her cheek. “Like burgundy.” He kisses her cheek. “Or maroon…” then her chin, “or vermillion,” and then her nose, “ _mahogany_.” When he says the last one, his voice is much deeper, and it vibrates against her lips as he hovers over them before he captures them within his own. 

After a bit, as Rey tries to catch her breath, she mumbles, “we keep getting distracted.” She gasps quietly when his hands slide down from her waist to her hips. 

“I’m not in a rush,” Ben murmurs into her skin, making her blood run ablaze. “What about here?” He asks as one hand raises to her sternum. She feels his thick, calloused fingers slowly slip through the holes between the buttons of her blouse. It makes her shiver under the warm spring sun. “Will you tell me what you’re wearing here?” He sounds absolutely lascivious as his thumb and forefinger begin to peel the button closure apart—

“More hot water, Master Ben?”

They jump apart at the shrill tone of the butler, who Rey sees standing not a mere foot away from them. 

She feels a flush that is probably the brightest shade of red there is, flood her skin. “Uh—yes! Yes, of course.” Rey finds herself mumbling as she makes to leap off of Ben’s lap. His hands latch back around her waist, holding her to him. 

Rey watches with skittish eyes as Threepio moves around the table with a pot of hot water. He makes a show of refilling their still half-full cups before placing the pot on the table. 

“Is there anything else you require?”

“No, th—”

“—YES, privacy.” Ben’s voice booms louder than Rey is expecting, and she jumps in surprise. 

She turns to him as Threepio titters away. “Must you be so rude to him all the time?” 

Ben growls in response before his hand flies up in aggravation. “Doesn’t he understand the word ‘cockblock’? It's been hardly five minutes.” 

His vexation at the untimeliness of the tea replenishment makes Rey snort. “You’ve been a bit monstrous. I think Threepio’s presence is here to serve some sort of cosmic balance to compensate.”

He leans forward so that his nose is tracing her jawline. She shivers as she feels his lips lightly trail beneath her chin. “I can be much worse,” he says in a low rumbling grumble that has all thoughts flying out of her mind. 

Yep, Rey thinks she definitely felt that one right in her cunt.

She tries to fight for some semblance of control when she pulls her face away. His hands are still securely clutching her waist, so she can’t go far.

“So, what did you want to do today?” She asks with a slight squeak.

“You.” His answer sends a short, electric zing that settles right in her core, yet again.

_Bloody hell,_ this man.

He might have broken her. Rey has no idea how to respond, and as much as her heart leaped at the idea…at the thought…

Where they even there yet? It’s the first time she’s seen him since _the_ kiss, and while he’d wasted no time trying to kiss her again, she felt suddenly spooked that things were moving quite fast—and what if all of this, this whole time, had been some sort of long game for him? What if he was only in it for the possibility of sex. Surely, it’s been quite a while for him, _months_ even. 

Seeming to sense her downward thought spiral, Ben amended his previous statement. “I would also be just fine sitting here, in the sun, with you in my arms the entire time.”

Something fuzzy rubs away at the anxiety building in her chest. “I think that might be incredibly boring,” Rey admits teasingly.

His lips turn up into one of his smirks, but it’s a relenting one. “Not to me.”

Rey feels the urge to kiss him then, and so she does.

When she pulls away, she can’t keep the smile from her face as he chases her lips.

Ben coughs suddenly. “I actually did have something I wanted to share with you.”

Rey’s eyebrows raise in interest. “Oh?”

She watches as his shoulders bunch up to his ears as he shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about…what I’m going to do now—you know.” He’s referring to his eyes by the way he widens them at her. Sometimes he’ll do that, stretch his eyes into varying shapes. She thinks she remembers Hux berating him about his exercises. 

It’s very adorable when he does it, even if he grumbles the whole time. 

“—I’ve been working on some poetry,” he says, and it brings her out of her reverie. 

“Oh?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not all porn…unless you’re interested.” He’s smirking at her, teasing her. She smacks him. “I was thinking—if it isn’t shit, I’d try it out maybe as performance art.”

That makes Rey perk with interest. “That sounds amazing, Ben. It’s a great pivot. I know you don’t think so, but you really do have a way with words.”

“Is that therapist speak for I’m a smartass?”

“You ever heard of slam poetry?” Rey asks, and it occurs to her that he’d probably be too good at that.

“No, but it sounds violent.” He’s once again leaning towards her, seeking her lips.

It would be so easy to get lost in him and just snog the rest of the afternoon. Rey’s hand comes up, and she runs her thumb along his scar. It makes him suck in a breath of air at the contact before he relaxes under her. 

“Or if that all goes to shit, who knows. I never thought about what else I could be good at, aside from art, or pissing people off.”

Rey bites her bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. “You are fairly good at that,” she admits and he leans forward to steal a kiss from her.

“If you think you mouthing off is sexy, it is,” he says plainly and it makes her blush shoot miles high.

He goes to kiss her again but she stops him by pressing her palms against his cheeks.

Whenever she touches his face, it’s a soothing calm shared between them. Both equally as affected.

“But what about your art? I’m positive there are blind artists out there. It would be different, but it could still be quite brilliant.”

Ben makes a sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t know, it’s something from my past…and now it’s over, done. I should be moving on, forgetting the shit from my old life.”

The comment makes Rey pause. Sure, moving on is a good thing, but forgetting the past? She wasn’t so sure.

“Not everything is worth letting go of. Even if the memories are painful, they’re still a part of your life. That’s how we grow.”

Ben sighs, but he doesn’t answer. Rey wonders what’s going on in that vast expanse inside his head.

“I wrote something,” he says softly after a beat.

Rey blinks. “You wrote something?” His head nods against her hand. “On paper?”

Watching Ben roll his beautiful, bourbon eyes is not something Rey would have thought she would be so affected by. She didn’t think she’d find something so usually obnoxious to be so fascinating. 

“Maybe instead, I decided to transform my art into words.” He shifts beneath her, and for a moment, she wonders if he wants her to get up. But then his hand comes up and between two of his massive fingers is a folded piece of paper.

Rey takes it, and when she unfolds it, she’s shocked at the swirling penmanship on the paper before her. “You wrote this?”

“Your continued disbelief is really stroking my ego,” he deadpans. “Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I don’t remember how to write.”

“Well, it looks better than anything I could write,” Rey admits, a bit miffed as she inspects each line. “Ben, this is seriously impressive.” 

He exhales. “Maybe wait until you read it before you give it any more praise.”

Rey smiles. “Should I read it aloud?” 

Ben shrugs, but his lips pull into a tight line. Even though Rey now has his whole face to read, her eyes always dart first to his lips. It’s still the easiest way for her to read him, and right now, she’s detecting hesitation. 

“It hasn’t been proofread, or anything,” he adds, and he shifts underneath her again. One arm holds her steady around her hips while his other pressed against his mouth. “If there’s anyone I trust to read my material, it would be you.”

Rey surmises that’s Ben’s way of giving her the go-ahead, so she looks down at the cursive letters and reads. 

_I’ve painted her often,_

_from a vision that was never there._

_I knew without seeing—_

_her eyes were as beautiful as her words_

_Would she stay because of mine?_

_I did not know desire could burn in different colors._

_I did not know I could dream in touch,_

_that I could hold her there_

_that I could taste._

_I think I’ll always be chasing it._

_Would she think me just as sweet?_

_She is life on a canvas,_

_I paint with the beats of her heart_

_bending my fingers to her will._

_When I blur my edges, rub hers away_

_I mix in the word_

_tomorrow?_

_And even with my eyes shut,_

_I see her clearer than any memory of my own._

She’s quiet, and Ben scoffs before he begins muttering nervously, “It’s a rough draft. Not even sure if it makes sense. I never had to describe anything with my words, but now it’s one of the only tools I have to communicate. It’s like learning a new fucking language.”

Rey is shaking her head. “No, Ben. No, it’s—” she isn’t sure exactly how to describe it. Ben Solo struck her speechless. 

“You can be honest Rey. I want you to be honest. You’re the only one that ever is.” He’s prompting her with such earnestly. Her heart is beating wildly as she tries to think of the words.

Why were words so hard to find when they revolved around Ben?

“It’s brilliant,” she says because he has to know it’s good. If she can articulate anything at all, at least let it be that. “Truly, Ben I—I’m just trying to find the right words.” She holds the paper out and presses it against his chest. 

His hand comes and covers hers. “It’s for you,” he whispers, and he brings their hands back to her lap. 

And even though it’s obvious, it’s still shocking to hear him admit it. She feels her chest swell with emotion. “Ben—” she whispers, and he cuts her off with his lips. 

He presses his forehead against hers when their lips break apart. “They don’t have to be the right words. You can just say what you feel, always,” he assures her. “You can tell me anything.” 

It’s unusual to Rey. She’s never had a connection like this before.

She leans forward to kiss him because that is one mode of communication that is not failing her yet. He holds her lips between his, so securely, so surely. When she pulls away, she can hear the way he inhales and feels the shudder run through him beneath her. “I’m usually the one always listening,” she says softly. “I haven’t spent the time thinking of myself in that regard—that there were times when I needed someone in my corner.”

Ben shrugs. “Well, I’ve never had someone in mine,” he says, unfazed. “Not until you.”

He’s serious when he adds, “I will always sit here and listen to what you have to say.” The air feels heavier around them, even though they’re outside. “Whether it’s your own words or some more gag-worthy romance.” His jibe breaks some of the tension, and it makes Rey release a stilted laugh. “It’s all I can do.” He’s making a face like the thought of it pains him. 

Rey pinches his shoulder.

His expression mellows, and he’s looking at her towards her face. He’s been improving in that practice. His ability to sense where things are much more accurate now with the bandages off. Hux had mentioned this development to be very impressive. Somehow Rey did not doubt that Ben would be able to excel at anything he put his mind to. 

Her smile loosens as she looks at his face, now much more serious. 

“It’s all I want to do,” he adds with a murmur, and his eyes blink up at her. 

Rey thinks it’s all she wants too.

-

Rey is sitting with Maz and Jyn in the common room on Thursday. They’re chatting about their week. Maz has started a hat for Kaydel with two little holes at the top for her buns. She’s explaining the pattern to Rey when the blond walks by.

“How’s it looking?” Kaydel asks with interest as she sits down at the table. 

Maz makes a sound in her throat. “What’s it matter what it _looks_ like, Honey? Just as long as these fit around your cute little bunnies.”

“How have you been, Rey?” Jyn asks, and it makes Rey pause.

It’s not like Jyn knows anything, but Rey does, in fact, have some big developments she can share. She’s never had the opportunity to do so before, and while Finn always loved to chat about boys, Rey had never had any worth chatting about.

Except now, there was a boy—a very cute boy, and there _was_ something to tell.

“I’m good. I’ve been good.”

“How’s Ben?” Maz asks without any preamble and with a whole lot of suggestiveness.

Rey blushes pausing, which is enough for Maz. 

“Has he made a move yet?”

The conversation made Kaydel’s interest perk up. “What? Who are we talking about?”

“He was another patient here—” Jyn starts.

“Rey’s boyfriend,” Maz finishes.

Jyn shakes her head. “I’m not sure they actually solidified anything yet.”

“Actually…”

“Actually?” Kaydel gasps. 

All three heads turn towards Rey. Even without their sight on her, the attention has her cheeks possibly scarlet.

“This has been driving me absolutely mad, actually,” Rey admits. The excitement to share this news, and the possibility of receiving advice on the matter fills her with a sense of relief she’s unfamiliar with.

“What happened?” Jyn asks with the sort of thoughtful concern only she could be capable of, considering the two other women were buzzing with uncontained excitement. 

Rey takes a deep breath. “Well, he got his bandages taken off a few weeks ago, and when I was finally able to see him—all of him—we kissed, and now—"

“Hold on, you _kissed_ that boy, and you didn’t tell us until _two weeks_ later?” The disappointment in Maz's tone sounds serious. Serious enough that Rey’s smile falters. 

“I don’t know, it’s all so bloody confusing. Last Sunday he wrote a poem…and he—it was about me—”

“So, I was just walking by, and I think I need you to repeat the part where Ben Solo wrote you a love poem.” Rey blinks in alarm as she sees Rose hovering over her shoulder.

Maz pats the chair beside her. “Join us, Hun. Rey was just about to tell us the whole story!”

“Wait, what does he look like?” Kaydel asks with bubbling curiosity.

Rose looks over at her as she slides into the empty chair. “Are you familiar with that actor from those sexy space adventure movies in the ’80s?” Kaydel’s expression remains blank, and Rose adds, “he was the smuggler co-pilot—tall, sexy.” Recognition dawns on the girl’s face.

“Oh, you know, I think I watched one of those before the accident. My mom was really into them.” Kaydel looks thoughtful. “He’s tall, brooding, a little roguish, dark hair?”

Rose nods, “Yup, imagine that, but a bit younger, and hotter.”

Kaydel makes a high-pitched sound in the back of her throat. “Okay… _daddy_ …”

There’s squealing happening around Rey, and she’s thankful that only Rose can see her blush. 

“Oh, god…”

Maz shakes her head. “You are not wrong there, Sweetheart. It happened on accident, but I grabbed that ass one time—I mean that boy is _so_ tall, after all—hm, it was almost at eye level, and if I were a few years younger…well, ain’t that a shame...”

Rey is sure she must be beet red by now. 

“Just a damn shame.” Kaydel shakes her head, and she’s still giggling.

“I might have looked a few times,” Rose confesses as she guffaws into her hands. 

Jyn’s words float through the frenzy like a soothing balm. “You are all being so bad, and at Rey’s expense.” She’s smiling as she looks over towards Rey. “You shouldn’t feel any obligation to say more.”

Rose pouts. “Aw, come on, I got really excited about the girl talk. All of the other nurses are no fun.”

There’s a part of Rey that is _also_ a little excited. She’s never had a group of people want to spend time with her, and ask her about her life—at least not like this—and never with this much excitement. She wonders if this is how it would have been if she’d grown up in a more structured setting, with real parents, and normal girlfriends who gossiped about boys, and clothes, and drama. 

It’s the first time she’s been around a group of people that felt less like strangers and more like friends. 

“Please, Rey. Please—this is the most exciting thing to happen to me since I’ve been here.” Kaydel voice brings her out of her self-reflection. Is the girl trying to guilt-trip her…?

Oddly, Rey finds herself smiling. She finds she doesn’t mind.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ve just never really shared anything like this with—friends before.” Rey blushes, and when she glances at Rose, she sees the nurse send her a reassuring smile.

“What else are friends for?” Rose asks, and then she gestures to the group. “I promise, we are all dying with excitement…and I’m pretty sure seventy-five percent of this table has been rooting for you both since day one…”

Kaydel’s hand pops up. “I’m still just as invested, even though I came late to the party.”

Jyn laughs lightly. “I have to admit, it sounds like you have your own Mr. Darcy _right_ there waiting for you to make a move.”

With the talk centered back to their original conversation, Rey sighs. “I guess I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I mean, we kissed—”

“Hold up, _when_ did you kiss?” Rose asks with wide eyes.

Kaydel scoffs. “You missed that part, we’re on to the next part about the poetry.” 

“I’m going to need the abridged version so I can be of any assistance,” Rose proclaims, smacking her hands on the table. 

“They’ve been flirting for weeks,” Maz exclaims, and she throws her crochet needle onto the table for effect. “I’ve practically told them _both_ a hundred times that they were sweet on each other. Now, she’s got that boy practically begging on his knees, and Rey still doesn’t know what to do?” Maz makes a disgruntled sound. “Honey, have I not taught you _anything?_ ”

Rey would argue that any of Maz’s suggestions always felt far too inappropriate to actually put into practice…and were possibly even illegal.

“I’m still waiting for the story about the kiss,” Rose interjects. 

“Rey saw his eyes last week, and then they kissed,” Kaydel supplies.

Rose gasps. 

“And now they’re both unsure what to do next…which is fuck the fuck out of each other.” Kaydel is very blunt with her delivery, and by no means apologetic about it.

Rose turns to Rey. “Is that—is that what _is_ next?” She squeaks. 

Rey opens her mouth and then closes it.

_“_ Mmm, Honey, when you get a chance to climb that boy like a tree—you better not let it pass you by,” Maz tsks.

“I think the question is whether Rey wants that or not,” Jyn supplies calmly. "Or if they're even at that point."

Maz waves her hand. “It’s never a bad idea to have a mind-blowing orgasm now and then…I mean, all that pent-up energy. One time, Justin and I abstained for almost two weeks, and _ooh_ , when that tension was finally released…” Maz doesn’t continue, for which Rey is slightly grateful for.

Rose sighs, “It does sound nice…”

“Pft, it’s not like you need a dick to get a mind-blowing orgasm, you know,” Kaydel squawks, and Rose turns to her and giggles something in a hushed voice.

“I think we’re getting off-topic.” 

Rey is thankful for Jyn because, as exciting as it was to experience this sort of girl talk, Rey is rightfully overwhelmed by it.

“I mean, it’s definitely something I’ve thought about—and I know he would probably jump at the opportunity..."

"Mhmm, when there’s pussy on the table all straight dudes do," Kaydel hums. 

"But is it appropriate? Sleeping with a patient? Doesn’t that break professional boundaries or something?”

“I mean… he’s not _really_ your patient. Definitely not anymore,” Rose chirps.

“Honey, you did a nice thing for the boy, spent time with him when no one else would. If feelings were to come up because of that, well, it sounds like destiny to me.”

Rose looks off in the distance dazedly as she affirms Maz’s statement, “Totally.”

Rey’s heart pounds steadily in her chest. “You think so?” She asks quietly. 

She looks down when she feels Jyn’s hand slide over her own. She’s smiling kindly towards Rey. “If Ben is someone that you want, nothing is stopping you from getting that fairytale ending.” She giggles and appears to be thinking of something. “I think Jane would be very proud.”

“Who cares about what Jane wants? Whoever that is. If I’m not invited to the wedding, you will _not_ be getting crocheted hats from ME!” Maz mumbles something else to herself, but it’s muffled by the chatter from the other girls around her.

Rey’s blush remains as well as her smile as she takes in the scene before her. She thinks it’s nice, having friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Rey making friends!! As you can probably tell... smut is very near... possibly even the next chapter 👀
> 
> I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) where I sometimes post fic teasers and updates.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy hump day! Here's the smut :) 
> 
> Tags have been updated for this fic now! This is fic and in this poetic love ballad I will preface that they do not explicitly discuss safe sex--
> 
> This is different smut from what I usually write and it was a very fun challenge for myself! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has liked, kudos'd and commented. I appreciate all the love and support you are all amazing!!

“Is it tight?” He asks as he waits for her to finish tying the scarf around her eyes.

Rey knots a bow at the back of her head. The silk scarf that she had to roll a few times is taut against her eyelids. All the light in the room is entirely blocked out.

“Yep. I can’t see a thing,” she confirms as she shifts nervously on the floor across from him.

She waits, and it’s silent for a long while. Rey begins to feel antsy with the loss of her vision. There’s a different sort of fear of the unknown without one’s sight. And, for her, this is just a glimpse of it. For Ben, this is his entire life and his future thereafter.

“Rey,” Ben says, breaking the silence.

“Mm?” She hums through the pounding in her ears.

“I can hear you thinking from here.” There’s amusement in his voice. He seems much closer, even though they were at least a foot apart when this all began.

Rey sputters, “I do feel a bit vulnerable like this—well, I know that’s the point.” She thinks he’s laughing at her when she hears him exhale quickly through his nose. “What if someone walks in? Wouldn’t they think this an odd…exercise?”

A sound rumbles in Ben’s chest across from her. “My mom’s in New York for the weekend, she comes back tomorrow, and I gave Hux the day off.”

Rey chews her lip. “They aren’t the only people in this house.”

“Threepio never comes over here, it’s my mother’s ‘sacred space’. When she’s not here, he doesn’t step foot past the adjacent hall.” It sounds very practiced like he’d been expecting her concerns. There’s silence for a moment, and then, “You know, the room is pretty much soundproof. My mom had it done when she became a senator. For any of those important phone calls—government bullshit.” She thinks she can hear his smirk. 

“We can _exercise_ all we want, as loud as we want,” he adds, and he sounds downright wicked.

All Rey can gather from her flurry of thoughts is the sudden apprehension for what sort of exercise they will be doing. The anticipation makes a blush rise to her cheeks. The implication of that little nugget of information has her thoughts running _wild_.

She isn’t entirely sure what she expected when Ben took her hand and led her out of his room and up the stairs to a new place in this massive house. Leia’s office was far from what she expected, but now it seems like some plot points are finally connecting in Rey’s mind.

Her stomach is bubbling with both nervousness and excitement at where this could lead. They had danced around each other and _sex_ ever since they admitted feelings for each other. It had been a long time for both of them, but Rey was sure, without a doubt, that she was ready for wherever this could lead.

Rey shrugs her shoulders nervously and shakes her head. “Alright—what do we do now? How should we start—Oh!” 

She gasps when she feels his hands come out and wrap around her thighs. It’s not a far reach for his long arms, and she feels the way his fingers press against her skin when he readjusts his grip. She’s wearing a blouse with light-colored jeans. The blouse is red this time. It’s brighter, close to poppy in color, and it’s something new. 

Her breath catches as he drags her closer to him slowly. They’re sitting on an ornate carpet, and Rey thinks she imagines the static the friction creates. Every movement between them is like a spark.

Rey doesn’t breathe until her knees bump against his. Her hands plant steadily against the soft rug beneath them.

“That’s better,” Ben murmurs, and she can feel his breath brush against her face before he lifts his hands off her legs. “Focus on listening to your surroundings and any scents your nose can pick up. Tell me, what do you hear?”

Rey concentrates hard, the silence sounding incredibly loud. She takes a steadying breath as she tries to calm herself, but her thoughts just won’t _quiet_. She shifts again over the floor, and she hears the way her jeans crinkle and the sound of the hardwood underneath the carpet groaning under her weight as she moves. She hears him exhale, and it sounds deep and full, just like him.

“I can hear you breathing,” she says softly. “The shifting sound when my denims crease. The old floorboards creaking, and the window—it’s open, and there’s a soft buzzing sound outside.”

She waits for his response. Her lips quirk into an uneasy grimace as she wonders if that was any good or just complete rubbish.

“Am I shit at this?” She asks into the void.

Ben makes a sound of disagreement. “No, that was pretty good, for your first try.” He’s teasing her before he goes on. “I’ve been listening to you breathe since the first day we met. Right now, it’s shorter inhales before you exhale for longer—then it’s more drawn out. You do this when you’re nervous. I could hear the way your ass brushed across the rug, and all I could think about was how I wanted my hands shoved under there—saving you from carpet burn. How does it make you feel, knowing I’m jealous of fucking floor decor?”

Rey’s face heats, and she inhales sharply. She’s more conscious of how she exhales. This time, it’s stilted and quick. 

“I like getting a rise out of you because whenever I hear that little hitch of your breath in your throat, I know I’ve affected you. It’s more addicting than any drug I’ve ever tried,” Ben comments, and she thinks he might be smirking still. His hands come out again to rest on her bent knees. His fingers spread slightly and then retract, gripping the muscle in her thighs. “Now, tell me what you smell?”

“Mint,” Rey says instantly, as she catches a whiff of his breath. “And maybe a bit of my shampoo? And the musk of books.” One wall of Leia's office is lined with bookcases that go from floor to ceiling. There’s a leather couch in the middle of the room and an old oriental carpet that they’re currently sitting on. A large desk is pushed against the windows overlooking the garden in the back with various knickknacks sprawled across it. 

“You smell better than what I imagine heaven would smell like—the perfect balance of something relaxing and peaceful,” Ben replies, and his thumbs start to rub small circles into her legs.

Rey huffs. “I didn’t know we were being metaphorical about it.” The blush continues to rise, and even though she knows he can’t see her, the vulnerability of being like this is overbearing. 

“I could be like that jackoff and tell you exactly what you smell like, but anyone can do that,” Ben says almost brusquely referring to that day in the common room when she’d first met Poe. “But what you smell like to me, that’s something personal to me. It’s solely _mine_.” He growls the word, and Rey feels it sizzle in her belly.

She swallows. “Oh,” she pauses before she can gather the nerve to ask— “And what do I smell like...to you?”

“Comforting,” Ben starts, “An almost…tenacious reminder of _more_. A continuation of constantly moving forward. A preview of…what else I could have. The perfect concoction for everything that I want.”

Rey’s heart stutters in her chest, and she feels a chill travel down her spine. Every word from his mouth is more intense than the last.

Ben’s hands slowly move further up her thighs. “You’re an aphrodisiac of hope,” he murmurs, and she can tell he’s leaning forward. How far apart from their faces are, Rey wouldn’t be able to guess, but all she knows is that he doesn’t feel close enough.

“What about touch?” Rey blurts out before she can think to silence it. Her thoughts are in a whirlpool of desire, swirling down and down, and every part of her feels heavy, desperate for touch.

His responding chuckle is subtle and contained within his lips. “Feel for yourself,” he concedes, and his hands start to rub up and down her thighs with a featherlight touch.

Rey’s hand lifts hesitantly. It feels like the limb is no longer her own without her sense to watch where it goes. She reaches out blindly, and her hand shakes. “Don’t complain if I poke you by accident,” she grumbles. The anxiety to find purchase makes the empty space around her hand feel expansive. 

“I’ve given you my consent.” Even so, he sounds teasing.

She jolts when she finally prods against something. It’s a hard, sinewy muscle, and her hand reaches forward to try and detect what part of Ben Solo’s body she has found. She moves her hand exploratively to the left following the slope until she hits the edge of fabric. The soft cotton rolls under her thumb and she feels the way Ben’s torso rises with his inhale. Her fingers travel up his neck. She can feel the way his throat bobs with his swallow. In response to her touch, his grip on her thighs tightens. His thumbs press near the indent of where her legs meet her pelvis. It makes Rey want to shift to release the tension that’s built up just a few inches above his fingers. 

“How does it feel?” She asks.

She thinks she can hear him swallow. “I’m extremely turned on,” he responds simply, and without a shred of embarrassment. “And you’ve only touched my face.” Something rumbles in his chest. “Makes me wonder how it would feel if you touched a bit…lower.”

His candor never ceases to spark something inside of her.

With a usually uncharacteristic pout, she grumbles, “That reminds me, Maz got to grab your arse before me, even if it was by accident.”

She hears his breath huff humorously and it brushes across her face. “Not sure how accidental it was, but I’d definitely prefer it if you wanted to try.”

“You really are a scoundrel.”

Her thumb finds the hollow of his cheek and presses against it slightly before she moves forward to discover his lips are parted. Something within her urges her on and her thumb, ever so slowly, pushes between his lips. 

Rey gasps when his teeth come out and nip the tip of her thumb in a playfully aggressive manner. She can’t help the giggle that sputters through her, the unsuspecting sensation of his bite has her insides tingling. Ben’s lips move then, just as quickly as when they bit and press gently against the pad of her thumb in a soothing kiss. The laughter dies in her throat.

“What about you?” His question is gentle, sultry. “What do you feel?”

“You,” she breathes dazedly. She finds it difficult to grasp the words, to keep playing their game. “I want you,” she admits, and any thoughts about being descriptive fall away, forgotten. 

Her response has him expanding. She feels the way his torso rises with his inhalation of breath. His lips do not move from where they’re pressed against her thumb. “I’ve thought about what you would taste like. Now that I’ve had a taste of your lips, of your tongue, of your skin… now I want to taste all of you,” he says between pursed lips still mouthing at her thumb. 

Rey’s chest tightens, and her breathing turns shallow. Her legs are crossed, but it doesn’t stop the way her inner walls clench at the thought. In the darkness, every sensation is heightened. She rubs her thumb across his bottom lip before dragging it down. His mouth opens with the pull of her hand.

“Will you let me?” He asks, and her thumb releases his mouth. His lip pops back up to its rightful place. Her hands rest on his shoulders as she slowly rises to her knees. His hands rove from their spot on her thighs to encase her hips keeping her close to him. 

She feels disoriented as she kneels above him. She can hear the cajoles from her friends in the back of her head.

Maz’s words ring in reminder, _“mmm, Honey, when you get a chance to climb that boy like a tree—you better not let it pass you by.”_

_“It’s never a bad idea to have a mind-blowing orgasm now and then…”_

Rey is sure, without a doubt, that Ben solo could give her one.

She is determined for herself—and maybe a little for the girls—to see this all the way through.

She’s unsure how on earth she will be able to find his lips without bashing their heads together. She uses her hands again and slowly runs them up to his neck before she holds his face, and Ben waits patiently, quietly. It’s unusual of him. She’d been expecting some sort of smart-ass comment or quip.

Rey takes it slow as she lowers her head to where her hands are. She feels his nose first, and it pokes against the edge of her own, and it is enough indication to her of where to find his lips. 

Ben lets her press her mouth softly against his, and the kiss is slow and languid. He’s tasting her now, the way his tongue pushes into her mouth. His lips devour hers with a hunger that has Rey falling into him. His hands move from her hips to her ass and pull her into his lap. Her legs spread and artlessly swing forward to wrap around his waist.

One of Ben’s hands gropes its way up her body, pausing at her breast to squeeze it firmly before it continues to travel up and cradle her neck. 

Rey surmises that kissing while blindfolded is not much different than kissing with their eyes closed.

Ben continues to lap at her lips with his own as he slowly leans forward, hovering over her and lowering her down until her back is against the carpet underneath her.

She feels him above her—everywhere. The warmth of his body singes into her skin. Rey’s legs hook around his back, desperate to get him closer. She wants him to touch her. She wants to feel his entire body pressed against hers.

“Rey.” She hears him call her attention above her. She hums in response. Her arms wrap around his shoulders. She wants him _closer_. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says, and he sounds amused.

“Hm?” For once, she’s impatient with words—doesn’t see the need for them. There’s so much else she would prefer him to do with his mouth—

“I said I want to taste you. All of you.” Ben grumbles above her, and his pelvis presses down against hers as he says the words. She can feel the hardness there, and she shivers.

She reprimands her own denseness. How could she have forgotten? “Yes,” she says immediately and, fortunate for her, she doesn’t have to extrapolate because, in that next moment, Ben moves swiftly down until she feels his nose drag across her stomach and over the silk of her blouse. “Shit,” she breathes when she feels his fingers curl in the waistband of her jeans.

Ben wastes no time, and Rey discovers he is incredibly skilled at unbuttoning her pants and yanking them off with a ferocity that has her pussy quivering in anticipation. He leaves her underwear on, and she gasps at the sudden feeling of his nose nudging the dampened spot at her core.

His hands move in a swooping motion as they come to the inside of her thighs, pushing her legs apart. Rey’s back arches a little off the ground as she waits, eagerly, for him to do more. Another high-pitched sound leaves her lips when she feels him then, mouthing at her cunt through her underwear. The crotch of her panties is pushed into her slit as his tongue darts forward and begins to gently thrust shallowly into her. Rey hears herself groan in frustration to his teasing.

“Ben—” She says his name like a sigh, wriggling her hips a bit. “Could you—” She breaks off, because could he what? She feels herself blush as she thinks of what she wants. Her throat constricts in mortification at saying the words aloud.

That was Ben’s expertise. 

His head lifts up then. “Do you want more?” He asks, and the smirk is loud in the quiet room. “Want my tongue in your cunt? Maybe my fingers too…”

She shivers, and her walls constrict as she imagines it. She wants it desperately. She wants to feel the way he fills her with his tongue, his fingers…and his cock.

The filthy thought has her lightly thrusting her hips up and towards his mouth. “Yes.” She’s heady for it, and so the way she whines the word doesn’t embarrass her as much as it would under other circumstances.

Circumstances where she’s not moments away from having Ben Solo’s tongue shoved up her cunt.

“Say it,” Ben commands, and his mouth moves to the hem of her panties. His hands push her legs together again as his teeth begin to pull the hellish barrier from her hips and down her legs. His hand pulls them off the rest of the way. “Tell me what you want,” he says lowly, and his lips are at her bent knee, pressing a kiss there.

She reddens even more as she considers it. Rey has never done anything like this. Her sexual experiences were quite vanilla compared to any encounter she’s had with Ben. Before this, when he recited the details of penetration in his erotic poem, was the first time she’d been so turned on by spoken words alone.

Rey would say Ben Solo might be her sexual awakening—and it’s transcendent to any fantasy she’s ever had. It’s surpassed the power that books had to transport her into their world.

Ben’s world is a place she thinks she won’t ever be able to leave, even if she tries.

Rey is pretty sure she never wants to.

She thinks she might have been waiting for this day since the moment she first walked through his door—even if she didn’t know it then.

“I want your tongue in my cunt,” she whimpers, and it’s barely above a whisper. She can feel his breath brush over her—it’s cool against her throbbing wet heat, and if he prolongs this any longer, Rey may actually combust.

With a feral growl, Ben leans down and shoves his face against her cunt. Her breath catches and stops as she feels his nose nudge against her soft curls there. Suddenly, she’s subconscious, and the ridiculous notion that maybe her cunt isn’t that sexy compared to other cunt’s Ben has tasted evaporates almost immediately when she feels his tongue dart out. Having found what he was looking for, his tongue licks a stripe straight up her cunt before flicking at her clit, making Rey squeak at the sensation. She lets out a sharp string of sounds in the resemblance of ‘ngh’ and ‘mmfph’ and ‘ahh’ as Ben feasts on her.

The silence in the room fills with Rey’s little moans and the telltale smacking and slurping sounds of excellently delivered cunnilingus. 

“ _Ben!_ ” She wails when his lips latch around her clit and his finger slides in unexpectedly, causing her cunt to clench around the intrusion. She shifts her hips against him, the sensation becoming overwhelming. 

It only spurs him on to lick harder, _rougher_ and the sounds she makes surmount to pleading cries. For what, she can’t articulate. 

But Ben is always ready to do that for her. His lips pull off her clit, but he adds a second finger. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he grunts, as his fingers continue their penetration. She can hear the squelching sounds they make as they pump in and out of her. Her blush burns hot on her cheeks. 

“I want you to come on my fucking face,” Ben grumbles low and carnal. “I want to taste the way you gush on my tongue.” 

And then his head is back between her legs sucking on her clit and building her up to an insurmountable high. Rey already knows she’s never experienced an orgasm like the one that’s coming for her.

Just the expectation of it pushes her that much closer. It winds tighter and tighter, to a point where she feels a tingling sensation roll down her spine and numbs her legs. Her body is overcome by a scorching heat. 

She’s almost there, but she’s so wound up, it almost feels like the orgasm itself would be impossible. She’s ready for it, waits for the way it will crash over her, and explode her into a million pieces. 

But she’s still cresting, and the build-up is bordering uncomfortable. 

“Ben I—” and she’s desperate for it, but she’s unable to navigate the sensations any longer. 

She’s almost afraid it may never come, that maybe something is wrong with her. The anxious thought flits through her, and it’s almost as if Ben can read her mind—knows exactly what it is she needs.

The thrusts of his fingers slow, but push deeper somehow, and it’s when he gently curls those fingers after one deep insert, and his lips latch around her clit with a surprising gentleness that makes her body _respond_.

There isn’t a word Rey can think of to describe the way her release feels. She’s read hundreds of novels and knows thousands of vocabularies, yet the word for what this is exceeds the divine, the insurmountable, the unquestionable state of absolute euphoric pleasure. It’s the strongest orgasm she has ever felt. 

Rey’s scream is low in her throat and raspy almost. She chokes around her voice as she feels the muscles in her cunt throb steadily around Ben’s fingers and then the way she latches on with a vice-like grip that tries with all its might to suck his digits inside of her and never let them go. 

She thinks it’s bright red she sees behind the confines of the blindfold—its heat amplified by electric sparks. The pleasure rolls through her as Ben’s tongue licks solidly against her clit, drawing the sensations further. Rey’s legs fall open on either side of him when the spasms finally abate.

Ben growls into her pussy, and it’s primal and possessive. His tongue still lapping at her even as she lies there beneath him boneless. When he finally releases her, she jolts at the feeling of his mouth leaving her clit, but his face stays between her legs, and his nose runs along her licked-raw lips. He smears his face in her wetness, and it’s so _messy_ that it has a blush flush across her entire body. 

“Fuck,” he says as he covers himself in her. “I knew you were a fucking dream…one I never want to fucking wake up from.” He sounds dazed as his face nuzzles between her legs.

Her hand reaches down to feel for his hair, and her fingers run through it before she pulls at him. It causes him to groan against her, and she shivers at the sensation. 

Rey would say the most accurate description of what just occurred, is that she’s quite possibly been eaten out within an inch of her life. The thought that this wasn’t even the main event—that there was still one piece of him she’d yet to discover—and the imminence of that discovery has her grip on his hair tightening with the desperation to have all of him, and a growing impatience for _when_. 

He lets her pull him up by the hair, and he rests above her still fully clothed. She feels a rustling between them and thinks she’s discerning the action of Ben pulling off his shirt to wipe some of her mess away from his face before he settles closer to her. His elbows nudge at her ribcage as his chest presses on top of her before he lowers his face down to hers. 

When he catches her lips, she can tell his are puffier from use, and the thought has that hunger inside of her wishing to claw its way out and to the surface. She can taste herself on his tongue, and it’s a new sensation to her entirely. It only adds to the sexual potency in the room. Even with the window open, it’s suffocating, and the only way Rey thinks she’ll be able to breathe is when she finally has his cock inside of her.

Her hands shoot down to his pants as she blindly tries to undo them. Her finesse is not as skilled, and she fumbles with the button before it finally pops open. She yanks his zipper down in a way that has him chuckling into her throat. 

“I knew that fiery spirit wasn’t reserved for just your passion for words,” he rumbles. “Will you be gentle with me—like one of your books?” He leans over her again, resting his weight on one hand as he uses the other to flick open the buttons of her blouse. “Run your hands down my spine before you flip me open? I can promise you a long chapter with plenty of action verbs to keep you entertained before the big climax.” His hand pushes into her shirt once he has enough buttons undone, and he cups her breast. His fingers dance over the lace of her bralette and he leans his head down to kiss right at her sternum. 

Rey shakes her head against the carpet. The ends of her hair cling to the fibers from static friction. “I can’t wait anymore, Ben,” she cries impatiently, no longer amused by all this talk. “I don’t need poetry. God, I want you—I want you to bloody shag me right now, alright?” Her hands are back to the top of his jeans as she shoves them down past his ass, making sure to take his briefs with them. She moans when she feels his cock spring free and rest heavily on her thigh. “Please,” she begs as her mind focuses on the silken hardness that nudges between her legs. The foreplay has gone on for _far_ too long. All she hears is his words once echoed to her all those weeks ago. How he wanted to go deeper and deeper…

Her hand comes around to wrap around his cock, and he groans. Rey tightens her grip as she runs her hand up and down the long and thick length of him. A dark and lustful part of her preens at his size. She’s sure to be delectably _stuffed_ with him. 

Ben doesn’t tease her further, maybe it’s the desperation in her plea or the way she’s stroking his length, but he wastes no time guiding his hips against hers until the head of his cock nudges at her still sopping entrance. 

He rubs the tip against her, coating himself with some of her wetness. “I can skim some pages then.” He mutters before he slides into her in one, single trust. 

The sound is wrenched from her chest as her cunt tries to adjust to the feeling of being filled so quickly. She feels the way Ben groans and how the syllables jolt against her throat when he says, “ _Fu-ck!”_

The hand that was on her breast slides down to push one of her legs out wide, stretching her open, and when he pulls out and thrusts back into her, the fit is incredibly snug, and Rey swears she sees more sparks flash in the darkness of her blindfold.

Ben thrusts into her like that a few more times before he picks up his rhythm and is pounding her deliciously into the oriental carpet.

Rey assumes rug burn should be expected for the way they slide against the carpet, but she really couldn’t care less at the moment. 

“Jesus— _fuck_ —” Ben gasps as he moves in and out of her. “I knew your fucking pussy would be perfect.” Each time he slots inside of her, the head of his cock bumps against that spot that had pushed her over the edge the first time. She feels the way that pressure steadily builds up again, and this time she can’t wait for that moment when she can finally release. “All I could fucking think about—this cunt.” His lips move to her neck, and he sucks at the skin there. 

The thrusting of his hips begins to change from steady to erratic, and knowing that he’s close has Rey’s heart beating madly in her chest. She feels that tension wind tighter at the thought of him finding his release inside her body…

Her cunt clenches around him, and Ben sputters. His hand is suddenly cupping her face. His fingers push into her hair. He caresses her cheek over and over. “Fuck—Rey, the only fucking thing…I just wish I could see you when you come, baby, if only I could—” He breaks off with a grunt of frustration, and his thrusts quicken.

She’s on the brink, but his words clench inside her chest, and she wishes, more than anything, that she could give him that. Her mind scrambles for the second-best thing.

“I can’t wait to feel you come inside of me.” If this were any other time, or maybe if it were anyone other than Ben, Rey would be shocked at the words that just fell out of her mouth. But this _was_ Ben, and this was undoubtedly the best sex she’s had in her entire life. Something about Ben gave her a boldness she never felt comfortable expressing with anyone else.

He groans into her neck as his hips stutter against hers. His fingers curl behind her neck. Her hand, that’s been locked in his hair this entire time, pulls so that she can drag his face against hers. “You’re going to fill me full of it,” she gasps when his hips jolt sharply against her. His erratic pants push against her ear as he thrusts. “Oh _god,_ I’m going to come harder than I ever have—” and her words have their intended effect, cutting her off at the sensation of Ben’s orgasm.

He moans loudly into her ear in a string of disjointed sounds as his rhythmic thrusts turn into solid, deep pumps. The second time he pushes inside of her, she can feel the spurt of his cum as it shoots out of him, can feel the way his hips grind in swooping, shallow thrusts that pushes his cock and his release deeper inside of her and against that elusive spot within her that only Ben has ever touched. The thought mixed with the feeling of it is enough to have her fluttering around him, and she cries out as the pleasure consumes her. Her back arches away from the floor. Ben’s other arm instantly wraps around her back, holding her as close to him as he can. 

Was it the blindfold that did this? Surely the amount of pleasure had to do with the rearrangement of Rey's senses. 

And probably a good amount to do with the man who just fucked her within an inch of her sanity.

She can’t tell which pulse is his and which is her own, but it’s a symphony of erratic vibrations, each beating to their own pleasured tempo. 

The throbbing settles, and Rey’s back slowly lowers down to the carpet floor, Ben’s arms still encased around her and his cock still buried inside. 

They slowly catch their breaths, and Rey feels Ben’s hand behind her neck reach up to the bow at the back of her head, pulling at the scarf. It falls away, and Rey’s eyes squint as she adjusts to the brightness in the room. The sun has cast a warm afternoon glow across their skin, bathing them in a stream of light. 

Once she’s able to see a bit clearer, her gaze focuses on the solid mass above her. Ben breathes heavily on top of her, most of his weight held up by his arms and expansive shoulders. Her eyes flick to his, and the beautiful amber depths of them as they stare down at her. She raises her hand to trace the scar that runs across his cheek and his right eye. He closes his eyes then, and for a moment, she imagines him seeing her when he opens them again. 

She finds herself thinking about how unfair it all is. That for everything he’s given her, she can’t give him everything he wants in return.

After a moment, she brushes her thumb along his scar and whispers, “you’re bloody brilliant.”

Ben tilts his head and presses his lips against her palm. 

They stay that way long enough for the sun to rove across their intertwined bodies and settle on the ornate swirls of the oriental carpet beneath them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) 😬
> 
> If you liked it I've love to hear in the comments!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some rough angst ahead in this chapter. We’ve watched these two grow exponentially since they met, but there are still some things that haven’t been addressed.
> 
> I have been told by one commentator that this fic is better than a K drama—which has been one of the biggest highlights of this journey for me. So, even though this is K drama level angst, relationships are hard, and I wanted this one (k drama stuff aside) to be as real as I could attempt—while still being super dramatic 😶. There will be some pain before we get to our satisfying end.
> 
> [2/3/21] Thank you to the sensitivity readers who offered to beta this chapter and the next. With the angst in this fic, I originally made some dialogue choices that were seen as insensitive so I have reworked some of their conflict to amend this. I’m sorry to anyone who felt triggered or had a bad experience reading this fic, and I only hope this edit has helped improve the story.
> 
> A last thank you to Rush-who has been my Alpha/Beta and the biggest support to me throughout. I love you!! ❤️❤️❤️

They’re lying on the carpet still. The sun has moved further west, and now Leia’s office is bathed in a darker shade of afternoon light. 

  
  


Rey flinches as she feels Ben’s hand between her legs as he uses the silk scarf to clean up some of the mess they’d made earlier. He swipes the smooth fabric against her skin, and her cunt squeezes at the sensation. A blush forms when she feels some of his cum begin to slowly ooze from her sex, and onto the carpet beneath her.

  
  


“Shit,” she gasps as she tilts her hips up and tries to stop it from happening. “I think I’ve made a mess of the carpet.”

  
  


Ben’s lips latch to the side of her neck as his hand tosses the scarf aside. She gasps when his palm cups her there. “I don’t care,” he growls into her skin, and his fingers start playing with her swollen pussy. She shivers when she feels him push the mixture of their fluids around her clit. 

  
  


“Someone’s bound to notice if there’s a small…puddle here, won’t they?”

  
  


“Should we make the puddle bigger?” Ben suggests, and she slaps his chest, scolding. 

  
  


“You really are so...mischievous sometimes.” She finds herself struggling for the best fitting word. There’s a lot that’s difficult for her to comprehend currently.

  
  


Suddenly Ben is hovering over her. “I think you like it,” he says with a deep rumble before he starts peppering her collar with kisses. She’s still wearing her shirt and bralette. They’d been too preoccupied to remove all her clothes, it seems. Ben uses his nose to nudge the flimsy material away from her breast before he latches on to her pert nipple and sucks.

  
  


Rey’s back arches off the floor at the sensation. 

  
  


“Think I could make you come one more time, baby?” Ben mumbles into her chest with a sort of avid enthusiasm that has Rey’s legs go lax and fall open, ready. Good Lord, he’s turned her into some sort of wanton sex crazed trollop. His hand catches more of his cum as he plays with her. 

  
  


Rey moans incoherent words in her daze. She hears a banging sound from far away. Through her fog, she absently wonders if Threepio really is trying to send a passive-aggressive message from down the hall. 

  
  


What an insufferable cockblock. 

  
  


Ben has a finger inside of her when a muffled voice calls out, “ _BEN?”_

  
  


It’s not Threepio. It’s a deep and gravelly voice that can’t be Leia either. Rey oddly thinks the voice sounds familiar, but she can’t place it.

  
  


Ben’s hand moves out of her cunt, and he curses. “Is he _fucking_ serious?” 

  
  


Suddenly he’s off of her, leaving Rey on the floor with her legs spread. She blinks in surprise. “What?” 

  
  


Ben is pulling his pants up his legs with frustration in his expression. He looks livid. 

  
  


“My fucking uncle, and his fucking timing,” Ben grumbles, and he’s kneeling on the floor, reaching around for his shirt. 

  
  


Rey spots it and hands it to him. She looks for her discarded jeans. 

  
  


The sounds of footfalls trudging up the stairs echo down the hall. “I might fucking kill him,” Ben mumbles as he grabs his cane off the coffee table and makes his way to the door. “Just give me a minute, I’ll get rid of him.”

  
  


“Ben—” 

  
  


“Without violence, I was kidding.” He doesn’t sound like he’s kidding as he yanks the door open. 

  
  


Rey’s hands are shaking as she tries to button up her blouse. Of everything she’s heard about this uncle, she can’t imagine the reunion to be anything but catastrophic. 

  
  


She hears the muffled sounds of their shouting echo down the hall, and she hastens to her feet. She walks to the door with the intent to be present as a sort of—mediator when she stops as she hears the second voice. 

  
  


“What are you doing, Ben?” The grating voice spits. “Leia told me about the performance art. I thought this accident would have given you some time to think—”

  
  


“Are you fucking serious? You came over here to whine about what I’m trying to do with my life? Fuck, I’m not doing this because I have some ulterior motive to roast the family and make you look bad. You all are just so full of yourselves,” Ben laughs humorlessly. 

  
  


“That’s not why I’m here…” Rey creeps down the hall where she sees Ben standing in the archway. She can’t see his uncle, but the familiarity of his voice has stoked Rey’s curiosity, and she peeks around the corner to see who Ben is talking to, standing below on the landing of the stairs. “Rey?”

  
  


The sound of her name spooks her, almost as much as the realization of seeing her psychology professor _here_ —and for that professor to also be Ben’s uncle.

  
  


“Professor Skywalker?” Her voice is small, confused. The belligerent clamor is now dead silent. 

  
  


Luke glances between her and his nephew. The weight of his reproving stare makes Rey suddenly feel heavy.

  
  


It’s Ben, who’s stilted comment breaks the silence. His tone is colder than ice. “I didn’t know you were teaching again.”

  
  


Something seems to process in the older man as he stares at them both. “Rey is my student.”

  
  


Rey glances at Ben, and she’s shocked to see how still he is, almost painfully so. His mouth set in an unreadable thin line. 

  
  


“What the fuck kind of game are you playing?” Ben spits, and his hands curl into tight fists. “Did you send her to the rehab center as some kind of sick joke?”

  
  


“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Luke replies like the accusation is an outrageous one.

  
  


“DON’T FUCKING LIE,” he roars, and it makes Rey jump. Her brain is scrambling to understand what the hell is going on. Ben’s shoulders are heaving, and he looks almost unhinged. There’s a frenzy going on inside his head, and Rey has no idea where it’s spiraling. 

  
  


“Ben,” she reaches out for him. When she touches his elbow, he flinches away. She feels his rejection like a stab right in the chest.

  
  


“No,” he says suddenly. “It’s not—it’s not fucking fair.” When he looks towards her, the distraught on his face crushes her. “You weren’t supposed to be a part of this—” He waves towards the direction of his uncle. 

  
  


Rey feels something inside of her crack. She is desperate to understand.

  
  


He inhales sharply, his eyes are wet, and his whole body looks like it’s struggling to stay in control, to stay standing. 

  
  


“You were supposed to be real,” he whispers with the sort of despair of someone who feels truly lost. His voice is hardly a murmur when he adds, “You were supposed to be mine.”

  
  


Rey shakes her head. “What do you mean? I am real, I—I had no idea Luke was your uncle—I wasn’t—” 

  
  


“It doesn’t matter,” Ben interrupts, and he looks resolute. He turns to his uncle. “Because _he_ did.”

  
  


Luke makes a disgruntled sound from the landing. When Rey looks at him she notices him scowling. “God, Ben. Everything is always just so dramatic with you. I had no idea recommending the position to Rey would somehow doom her to your presence. It’s not always about you. You always think everything I do is because I have some evil ulterior motive to destroy you.”

  
  


“It’s funny how you say that, and yet look at where we are. Look at _me_.” He hisses, and his chin juts forward as he glares, unseeing at Luke. “Look at who I am now.”

  
  


Luke sighs. “Ben, I made a lot of mistakes, and I do want to apologize for them, but I can’t keep trying to understand why you must always turn my words against me. You’ve cast blame on me for your accident, but I didn’t make you get in that car.”

  
  


“When have you ever tried to understand me?” Ben scoffs. “You’ve only tried to control everything about me—like I am someone to be watched at all times because I can’t be trusted to do anything on my own, to not fuck anything up!” 

  
  


“It was never about controlling you, only to PREVENT you from doing any more damage.” Luke sighs, “I thought I was helping you. I know now that assumption was misguided.”

  
  


Ben glares towards his uncle. “Helping me? Think about what you just said, and then tell me this had nothing to do with control.”

  
  


“You did not make it easy,” Luke says sourly, and his posture makes him appear impatient. He looks exhausted. “You never do.”

  
  


“And you have?” Ben asks incredulously. “Every aspect of my life, you’ve been there, an overbearing shadow of a doubt. All under the rouse of _teaching_ me something.”

  
  


“Maybe my methods were strict, but it was never with any malice.” 

  
  


Rey watches the interaction with wide eyes. The anger between them, all of this history unresolved. Her heart aches for Ben, who looks like he is ready to collapse to the floor with the way his body is shaking.

  
  


“You just enjoy fucking up my life every time I’m _this_ close to something good,” Ben sneers, and his mouth curls in anger. His shoulders shake harder. He looks distraught. His right eye twitches as his whole face trembles.

  
  


It’s a terrible thing to witness. Rey feels her chest constrict. The pain, so evidently radiating off of him.

  
  


Luke has an incredulous expression on his face. His eyes flick to Rey, and when he exhales he looks like he’s given up, disappointed. She can’t help but feel like she’s done something wrong, that this discovery from her professor—someone she saw as a mentor, should make her feel ashamed in any way. It makes her think that maybe she really was going to be a terrible therapist. “After talking to Leia—she was so adamant that you had changed, but _clearly_ my sister has been holding on to hope for too long.”

  
  


“You always have to take everything from me,” Ben hisses. His hands shake. 

  
  


Luke’s gaze hardens as he looks up at his nephew. “The only one who’s taken anything from you is yourself.”

  
  


Ben is rigid as stone. He stands there, shoulders hunched, like a bull ready to charge. Every muscle in his face is tense. Rey wants to reach out, to soothe him. Those hard lines of anger, of hate, are devastating to see on his beautiful face.

  
  


But he had already rejected her once. There was a part of her that was afraid, afraid that a second attempt would solidify _something_ between them—something wrong.

  
  


A stoicism settles on his features. Instead of exploding like Rey had been anticipating, suddenly Ben is eerily calm. He turns away from his uncle without a word and heads back towards the office, passing Rey as he moves.

  
  


She watches him stomp down the hall before she follows him.

  
  


“Ben…” She calls out to him, but he’s silent as he passes through the door. 

  
  


When she enters the room, he’s pacing the oriental rug. They’d been lying there, wrapped in each other’s arms only a few moments ago…

  
  


“Ben, talk to me,” Rey pleads. 

  
  


He’s shaking his head. There’s an inner turmoil raging within him, something Rey is finding impossible to read.

  
  


Ben stops pacing, and he's facing the window away from her. His shoulders shake as he inhales a breath. Her eyes glance down at his fists by his sides, clenched so tightly his knuckles are white.

  
  


“Why are you here, Rey?”

  
  


Rey blinks. The horrifying déjà vu of this question that may never rest between them. Maybe she has been saying it all wrong this entire time, because how can he even ask this? After everything.

  
  


“Not because your uncle put me here,” she defends because she _really_ did not know. She almost feels foolish though, because also—how couldn’t she? Why had she never gone and googled this God-damned family?

  
  


Ben exhales slowly. He turns to her. “Even without Luke, even if it was intentional—even if it wasn’t. What are you doing here with me?” 

  
  


She doesn’t understand what it is about her being here that he _doesn’t_ get. “I want to be here Ben. There are feelings, feelings I can’t explain—”

  
  


“See that, right there,” he interrupts, and he looks devastated as he says it. Whatever it is, he looks like he’s found the answer, no matter how ruinous it seems to be. “You can’t explain it because it’s not real. What we have between us it’s—it’s all built from a fucking dream.”

  
  


His words make her pause. A slow, forming cloud of dread hangs over her. Suddenly Rey is terribly confused. 

  
  


“It is real. I like you,” she says softly, but she feels small as she says it. “I more than like you.”

  
  


Ben’s lips tremble as they press together. His eyes harden. Rey's chest fills with apprehension.

  
  


“Why? I’m not—I’m not a good person, Rey. There is so much about me—so much of who I am, who I _was_ , that you never saw. And even when I was horrible to you, you still— _want_ to find this goodness inside of me. I’m not deserving of that.”

  
  


Rey shakes her head. It isn’t true, she knows he’s changed. “I’ve seen the good in you. I’ve watched you change.”

  
  


Ben makes a belabored sound in his throat. “How have I changed, Rey? The only thing that’s changed is how you feel about me because I’m still a fucking asshole. I still don’t—” 

  
  


Ben turns his gaze to the floor instead of in her orbit, and something about that stings…

  
  


“Luke is right, I haven’t changed. I made choices—horrible ones. I’m like this,” he gestures to his face, the veins in his hand protruding with how tense he is, “because of a decision I made. Rey, I could have killed people. _This_ is the best-case scenario.”

  
  


“You aren’t that person anymore,” she tries to argue, but he won’t listen.

  
  


“And now, what have I done differently? I’ve been in recovery, and aside from selfishly taking up your time, all I’ve done is wallow in self-pity. Fuck—the first thing I wanted to do was go out there and air all my shit under the guise of being poetic. Everything I do is out of selfishness.

I drove drunk, out of selfishness. I pushed everyone away. I wanted you, even though I know you deserve someone a hundred times better. But I didn’t care. I was determined to have you anyway. I was even stupid enough to convince myself that I could earn it. I actually thought I would eventually deserve it.”

“You say that like I had no choice in this. What about what I want?” Rey argues, and it’s unclear to her why Ben seems to think all of this—them—is because he made it so. Her feelings are her own.

“How can you want this? I’m still fucked up, and I’m still going to fuck up.”

“You think I can’t handle it, is that it? You can be... _such_ an asshole sometimes, but that’s not going to push me away. These last couple months, I’ve gotten to know you, Ben Solo. So, if you think being fucked up is a good enough reason for me to give up on you, you’re wrong. You are still recovering, Ben. You’re allowed to take the time to heal. It doesn’t happen overnight. But you aren’t still that person who got behind the wheel intoxicated.”

“How are you so willing to look past the things I’ve done? What about consequences? I haven’t done anything with my second chance. It’s been wasted on me.”

“How can you think that?” Rey feels tears brimming at her lids. “Yes, you have a dark past, but that does not mean you aren’t worthy of something more. You are still allowed to make mistakes, even when you’re given a second chance.” 

His bottom lip curls underneath his teeth. The edge of his jaw protruding tensely as he decides on what he’s going to say next. Rey watches with a silent prayer that whatever it is he’s about to say isn’t as heartbreaking as it already feels.

When he finally releases his lip from between his teeth, it’s slightly swollen and turning a deepening shade of red.

  
  


“You know when you told me I wasn’t alone? That’s not true. You want to know why I’m alone? Because I chose to be. That’s where we’re different. I have parents, they’re right fucking there, and you were right—they’ve tried to make amends, they’re still trying, but I just always push them away. After the accident, I didn’t even want them to. I haven’t grown. 

  
  


But the thing is, Rey, _you_ aren’t alone. You have people who care about you. You have friends now. You told me once that you were looking for something real. This—what we’ve been doing—is anything but that.”

  
  


How could any of this _not_ be real? How could Ben believe a lie like that?

  
  


When Ben inhales, his whole body shakes. “You shouldn’t want this—want me.” 

  
  


Rey takes a step forward, shaking her head. Somehow, he still seems miles away. “I do though, I want this.” She tries to keep her voice steady, but it feels like pushing a boulder that just won’t budge. “I want you.”

  
  


Something in his expression hardens. “Can you tell me, right now, after everything I’ve done—after how little I’ve actually changed—Can you honestly give me a reason as to why you think I deserve you?”

  
  


Rey’s thoughts are scrambling, the words, _yes, I can just give me the chance,_ vibrate inside her head. The reasons are _just_ there at the tip of her tongue. If only she could explain—

  
  


But it seems Rey has hesitated for too long.

  
  


“Exactly, because I don’t.” When Ben says this, his face contorts in the most devastating expression Rey has ever seen. The tears brimming her eyelids trail down her cheeks in quick succession.

  
  


“You do, Ben, you do. Don’t do this…” 

  
  


_Don’t pull away from me…_

  
  


His jaw sets as his eyes flick wetly towards her, determined. “You deserve someone who isn’t so fucked up. You deserve someone _good_.”

  
  


This would be _the_ moment if Rey could just think of the words. Right now, in this warped fever dream of astronomical proportions, is her chance to say something profound—something that would rewind this nightmare and bring them back to when Ben held her in his arms. When he told her she was _the perfect concoction for everything that I want_.

  
  


_You’re an aphrodisiac of hope._

  
  


Didn’t Ben realize that he was those things for her just as much?

  
  


“You’re pushing me away. It feels like you’re making this choice for me—after you just told me it was supposed to be my choice.”

  
  


Ben’s eyes cast down to the floor. Losing sight of them feels like a strike right through her heart.

  
  


“Maybe I’ve realized that letting you go is the only selfless thing I’m capable of doing.” He looks broken as he says it.

  
  


Rey looks around the room. Everything is silent, still like they’re frozen in time. She glances around, looking for the answer to this disaster of a situation as if something— _anything_ could fix this. 

  
  


If only she could bloody find it. 

  
  


She feels a painful desperation for—words, why couldn’t she find the words? If she could just _explain_ it from her perspective. If she could just—

  
  


If she could just make him _understand_...

  
  


“I feel like no matter what I say right now, I can’t convince you to be with me,” Rey’s voice cracks as she comes to terms with the fact.

  
  


Ben is silent, his head still tilted to the floor, and his lips tremble. 

  
  


For the first time in a while, Rey isn’t sure what it means. After all this time, she thought she knew Ben Solo enough to know what he needed. Now she isn’t sure.

  
  


Maybe she isn’t being fair to him. After this—whirlwind romance between them, maybe they were in over their heads. Maybe they were trying to escape reality.

  
  


Maybe destiny is a fantastical construct that people used as an excuse to be happy.

  
  


Perhaps she had allowed the dream to suck her in, and she permitted it to keep her.

  
  


But she didn’t belong there. 

  
  


Once again, she is reminded that, in the end, no matter what anybody says, she’s always going to be alone. 

  
  


She let herself fall for the fantasy. Except, this time, she entangled that fantasy with real life—and the repercussions of that were almost too heartbreaking to bear. 

  
  


With a trembling heart, Rey turns and practically runs from the room. 

  
  


As she passes through the door, she shamelessly hopes Ben will call out to her. Stop her. He's going to tell her he was wrong, that this was a mistake.

  
  


He doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) ❤️


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! While this is technically the penultimate chapter of this story (last chapter is an epilogue) it has felt like the biggest one for me yet. This is IT folks. As I read this one over it was an emotional time. I’m so proud to share this last chapter with you and I hope it brings you a similar satisfaction as we finally witness our idiots finding an end to their--idiocy ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has interacted with me on Twitter, Kudos’d, commented and loved this story. Writing this fic and sharing it with you all has been a mental lifesaver. I often vibe in my angsty world of emotions, but my growth into some darn romantic fluff has felt so frickin awesome, and it’s all thanks to you guys. I love y'all 🤗
> 
> And most importantly, thank you to Rush for betaing and telling me to calm down because it is good. I couldn't have done it without you ❤️
> 
> Quick CW for mild elements of possible abuse and mental health in reference to Rey’s past.

It’s Rey’s first time in a bar in—God, she has no idea how long it’s been. All she knows is that it feels strange. It feels like it’s the last place she wants to be.

“Hey Peanut, you good?” Finn’s voice calls out to her over the noise. 

Rey blinks up from her pint, and her best friend comes back into focus. Finn looks at her with a concerned expression. 

“Yeah, yes, I’m sorry. I know I’m probably being a real buzzkill.”

Finn makes a face in denial. “What? No, not at all. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you. I know the volunteer stuff and school ending soon has taken up most of your time. I just…I can’t help but think something is up.”

Bloody hell, if only he knew.

Something nags at Rey as she considers _why_ Finn didn’t know. Had she been so wrapped up in everything that revolved around Ben Solo that she let the only and longest-standing relationship in her life simmer on the backburner unattended?

“I’ve been a terrible friend.”

Finn raises his eyebrows. “If you’ve been terrible, then I don’t even want to know what I’ve been.”

After a beat of silence, the table rumbles in soft laughter. 

The dullness that had been weighing down Rey’s chest feels _just_ a bit lighter. “I should have told you about this ages ago.”

“Hey, you know I’m always here to listen. Whatever you’re going through, it doesn’t matter to me when you wish to tell it.” Finn reaches out and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. 

Rey’s lip trembles as she takes in his words. She wonders what she did to deserve a friend like Finn. 

She thinks over the last few months. She thinks about all the newness that came into her life. The companionships she gained…and the one she lost. 

“That patient I told you about, the one who lost his sight after an accident…” She trails off, unable to choose which words she wants to use to describe Ben.

But Finn nods. “The asshole who was rude to you.” Something seems to spark in his eyes as he comes to a realization. “Ah.”

It shouldn’t amaze her how well Finn knows her. Maybe it was time for Rey to start opening her eyes to everything she did have, instead of comparing it to the one thing she didn’t.

If only that one loss didn’t hurt so deeply.

Rey inhales a shaking breath, and her eyes are already watering when she looks over at Finn.

“I think I fell in love.”

-

When Rey walks into the common room a week later, she’s surprised to see everyone sitting at Maz’s table. 

Rose spots her first. “Rey! We missed you last week. Figured you might be preoccupied with…” 

Rey knows what her face must look like to warrant the concerned look on Rose's. She had been strong on the bus ride here. She’d anticipated their reactions when she told them it didn’t work out, and that she didn’t want to talk about it.

Except she can’t hide it now, not with the way she knows her face is all crinkled up, and her eyes are squeezing shut, and her mouth hanging open. 

There’s no avoiding the truth now.

“What, what is it?” Kaydel exclaims with a frantic nervousness that makes a sob escape Rey’s throat before she can help it.

Maz is pulling out the chair next to hers. “Have a seat, Honey. You can tell us what that idiot did now.” She pats her hand square on the seat with a loud smack.

Rey takes a shuddering breath. “Uhh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I’m—” 

“It’s all right, Rey. You don’t need to apologize to us,” Jyn says with a tone filled with such a motherly nature Rey can’t help but release another sob.

“Oh god, was the sex awful?” Kaydel asks outright. “I mean he has gone through a whole sensory reprogramming with being blind and all. Maybe he just needs time to adjust?” 

Rey’s blush is almost instantaneous. She can sense more attention on her than the four women sitting around at the table. It’s not the same as having eyes drifting to the commotion in the room. Instead, it's a slight shift in the chair behind her or the chin tilt from the man at the table across from them. It unnerves her, and she really wishes they would all just mind their own business. She tries to calm her hysterics enough to string together a full sentence. 

She chokes on her words as the heat of her embarrassment flushes her entire body. “No, it—it was—it was honestly better than any shag I've—but we were interrupted when his uncle showed up.”

“ _The_ uncle?” Maz squawks in alarm. 

Rey sniffs. “That’s not even the worse part. It turns out he’s my Psychology professor, the one who got me the referral to this volunteer job.”

“Oh shit.”

“Wait, the uncle is also your Psychology professor?” Rose’s eyebrows have disappeared underneath her bangs.

“And he didn’t say anything? Like—hey, by the way, I have an emotionally unavailable nephew there right now. If you see him send him my kind regards?”

“Kay, I’m pretty sure the relationship with the uncle is far from amicable. He came to visit one time, and Ben straight up refused to see him.”

This information from Rose makes Rey pensive. In all the months since she started volunteering here, how _had_ Ben never come up when Luke asked her about her time at the center? How had Luke not even mentioned him if he knew Ben was there at all?

“So, what happened when the uncle showed up?” Maz questions, bringing them back to the initial conversation.

Rey bites her lip to keep it from trembling. “Ben found out that he was my professor. They had a huge row about… _a lot_ of history between them. Luke told him he hadn’t changed, and he sounded so disappointed in Ben. It was horrible.” Reliving the memory was painful. Rey saw Ben’s eyes as he stared at her, as he told her he didn’t deserve her.

“What a fucking douche,” Kaydel scowls.

“I was wrong about everything. Our whole relationship has been built from a fantasy.” Rey’s voice shakes. “He said he didn’t deserve me and that I should be with someone who did.”

Rey shakes her head, and more tears fall. “It wasn’t real. We were two characters living in a fictional world while reality went on outside _us_. And then it—it all exploded in my face. Ben he—he doesn’t think what we had was real. But maybe he was right. He said I didn’t know why I wanted to be with him because there wasn’t a substantial reason for why we could work—and I couldn't come up with a reason right then to deny it.”

“Now wait a minute, who says there needs to be ‘substantial reasons’ for why two people should be together? If that ain’t some foolish mansplainin’ _bullshit_ if I ever heard it.”

Rey glances at the small woman, feeling a bit terrified by the furiousness in her tone. “That’s the thing, I couldn’t give any. I couldn’t think of the reasons. I couldn’t tell him that I—” the word dies on her tongue.

“That you love the bastard?” Kaydel finishes for her.

Rey rubs at the errant tear that splashes on her cheek. “He thinks he manipulated my feelings.”

“Well, it sounds like you need to go yell at him and tell him he’s wrong.” Maz tsks, “that boy needs you to smack some sense into him.”

“I tried, Maz. I couldn’t convince him. All I could come up with was a bunch of—rubbish. It was nothing close to the kind of—profound declarations that Ben could deliver. Instead, I just let him tear us apart. I wasn’t able to stop it.”

“What do you like about him?” Rose asks suddenly, and it creates a pause among the group.

Rey glances over at her. Rose offers her an encouraging smile. 

It’s strange, as Rey thinks about it. It seems unconventional to consider a person’s most attractive characteristic as him being an asshole with an impressive aptitude for always saying how he feels with such undeniable confidence like Ben does. But such a statement is not nearly as romantic or poetic when said aloud as it does in her head. 

“You don’t have to tell us,” Rose adds quickly, and there’s a gleam in her eye as she looks at Rey. “It’s something you just have to know—and you do. I think you should go to him, and you tell him whatever it is you want to say, without thinking about what we think, or what anyone thinks—hell, even what he thinks. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that _you_ know how you feel, and you tell him however you want to tell him.”

“Rosie is exactly right,” Maz chimes. “And I’ll tell ya what Ben Solo needs. He needs someone to fucking show UP. That boy has never _once_ had someone—let alone a _girl_ fight for him. He’s been alone for so long. Ever since you arrived, I could feel the desperation in that boy. He was so hopeful for your attention. I’ll tell you one more, I was jabbering on to Chewie outside his door about you sitting with me sometimes on Thursdays in the common room—and guess who shows up at my table that next Thursday.” Maz takes her hand. “Honey, that idiot has been taken with you since the moment you walked through the door. As for any of that bullshit he’s spouting, if all that I witnessed ain’t real, then I need to be admitted to a different facility—and they’ll have to take me kicking and screaming.”

Rey stares at Maz with her heart lodged in her throat. Her words create a whole new slew of thoughts and a desperation to _do something about it_.

“Do you want to be with him?” Jyn asks from beside her, pulling her away from her wayward thoughts.

Rey glances at the easy smile of her friend, of these women who seem to care _so_ much about her and her feelings. Rey is once again overwhelmed by the attention.

She nods, and it’s a very small tilt of her chin. “Yes.”

At that, Rose smiles reassuringly across the table. “Then you should tell him. In your own words and on your terms. Just say what you want to say, and if he still tries to push you away, then he really is a dumbass.”

Rey stares at her. “That—was really good. You’re a very inspirational motivator.” 

Rose’s reassuring smile turns cheeky. “Eh, I can be profound sometimes.”

Rey is suddenly lost to her own thoughts. Who cares if she sounds like a right idiot? She wasn’t going to let Ben decide what he thought was best for her in the name of selflessness. It wasn’t fair.

Rey had to at least tell him how she feels, and Rose was right, she had to do it on her terms. She had to take control of her own goddamn destiny.

“I have to tell him,” Rey says with a dazed realization and newfound confidence. “I think—maybe I need to tell him right now.”

Rose perks up first. “Uh…YES.”

Rey sits there for a moment longer before she jumps out of her chair. “I—I have to go…”

“Oh my god, girl, go get your man!” Kaydel squeals excitedly.

Rose jumps up from the table next. “I can drive you.”

Rey blinks. “What? No, I couldn’t—aren’t you working?”

Rose waves her hand. “Shift ended an hour ago. I was hanging around with the girls hoping to see you today. Oh my god, this could be like the car scene in Notting Hill.”

Kaydel perks up. “Wait I know that movie. Does that mean we all get to go?” 

“What? You all don’t have to—”

“Well, you aren’t going without me!” Maz proclaims as she slowly starts to get out of her chair. 

“Holy shit, this is better than a K drama!” Kaydel exclaims as she too rises from her seat like a spring.

“Oh crap!” Rose exclaims.

All four heads whip to the nurse.

“I drive a Scion IQ. Hardly has room for four people.”

Jyn smiles. “You all go.” Her head turns to Rey, and her smile transforms just slightly to one a little bit more conspiring and wholly optimistic. “I can wait for Rey to tell me all about it later.”

“You really don’t have to do this,” she assures. She never intended to burden them with her problems.

“Rey, we’re your friends. We got your back,” Rose replies with a soft smile.

Rey looks at the four women with watering eyes. She never would have thought that there would be this many people who cared enough to want to be there for her. 

Ben was right about one thing: she isn’t alone.

Her voice shakes as she smiles at them. “Thank you.”

Maz grips her arm. “Now isn’t the time for tears, Honey. We have shit to do. There’s a boy out there we have to slap some sense into.”

Rose’s hands clasp together with excitement. “Let me just go grab my purse!”

And then she’s running towards the front desk.

-

“Maybe this is a terrible idea,” Rey says as they pull up to the house. “Maybe this will all end terribly.”

“It will be fine. You just have to say whatever you feel, just be real. I’ll go up with you to the door? Give you that extra shove to ring that doorbell.”

Rey exhales deeply, her nerves fluttering within her at an all-time high. “Shit.”

Rose puts the car in park. “You ready?”

“Love doesn’t care if you’re ready or not, just go!” Maz exclaims from the backseat. “Just make sure you let us out first, Rosie.”

Rose jumps into action. “Right.” She unbuckles her seatbelt before hopping out of the car and sliding her seat forward. 

With a shaking hand, Rey opens the passenger side door. She just has to tell him how he makes her feel, even if it sounds like rubbish, even if it doesn’t sound poetic in her head—because compared to him? She was at an elementary grade level when it came to talking about her emotions. That’s why she always chose to talk about everyone else's. 

But now it does not matter because it is her turn. It's her turn to make the first move, even if she didn't know exactly what to say. 

They are at the front door when Rey comes out of her inner thoughts, and she watches with mild horror as Rose reaches forward and rings the doorbell.

They wait a few agonizing minutes until the door swings open, revealing Hux.

He greets them with surprise. “Rey and—” his eyes shift over to Rose, “friend? This is a surprise.”

Rose speaks first. “Hi, friend's name is Rose. I was also Ben’s nurse when he was at Ajan Kloss.”

Something shines in Hux’s eyes. “Hello, Armitage—my friends call me Armie. And what a coincidence, I’m Ben’s current babysitter.”

“I am so, so sorry,” Rose commiserates with a mock sad expression. 

Hux leans against the door, causing it to swing wider open, and he almost loses his balance. He rights himself with a shake. “Y-you know, I’m sure there are a lot of stories we could swap between the two of us. Perhaps, over dinner sometime?”

Rose’s eyes light up as she gazes up at the tall redhead. “Absolutely.”

Rey gapes at them. “It can’t be that easy.”

“C’mon Honey, what are you doing still standing in the doorway?” Maz's voice rings behind them. She and Kaydel finally reach the entryway.

Rey turns to Hux with an expectant look. 

“He already has a visitor. One very likely to take a toll on him. It might be too much for him today.”

Rey begins to nod in understanding. Maybe it is too much. Maybe these sorts of grand gestures were just a thing that happened in films.

“Now listen here, you nitwit.” It’s Maz who comes around Rey’s side with her hand pointing towards Hux. “Rey has to get in there and tell Ben Solo she loves him. She has to go in there and get. Her. MAN!”

“You do not want to mess with her,” Kaydel says pointedly.

Hux is smiling, and he has the wherewithal to look slightly terrified. 

Rey watches the exchange with wide eyes. “No—no, he’s right, I don’t want to push it. I should just come back—” 

“Rey, that boy can’t hide his emotions for shit—and I don’t even have my sight!” Maz takes both of her hands. She squeezes. “Enough wasting time. Life is short.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Well, it sounds pretty important. I should probably just let you go in there, maybe cause an interruption, in case they start breaking furniture in there—”

“What?”

“Oh nothing, I’m sure it’s fine,” Hux adds dismissively, but he steps away from the doorway, letting her through.

“Your humor is so dry. It is very appealing to me.”

“Ugh, Rose. Stop flirting with the male nurse.”

-

Rey turns the corner and is in the foyer that leads down the narrow hall to Ben’s room when another figure in the archway makes her pause.

“Oh,” she gasps when she recognizes the man. It was only once and a brief encounter, but he looks almost just as he did then, possibly even wearing the same exact clothes as the time before. 

He pauses as he inspects her. “We must run on a similar brainwave, huh.” He takes a few steps into the foyer. “Guess we have something else in common. Han, by the way.” He gestures to himself with a point towards his chest.

His presence is unexpected, and Rey finds herself caught off guard. “Uh, Rey.” 

“Guess I have you to thank,” The man—Han, says with the same upturn of his lips that Rey has seen many times on a younger face.

Rey blinks. “What?”

Han puts his hands on his hips, the look on his face resembling that of someone who just solved an intricate puzzle or discovered a never-before-seen ancient artifact. 

The dials start clicking into place for Rey. “Are you—” 

“Look, I don’t know what you did over the last few months.” Han gestures towards the hall. “But today was the first time, in a long time, I saw my son. He…let me see him, the real him.” The older man pauses, looking to the floor. “Sometimes I wondered if I ever would if I deserved it. We have a lot to work through, he and I. But we have to start somewhere, right?” 

Rey swallows as she takes in his words. 

Han chuckles to himself. “Leia kept going on and on about this _girl_. She’ll be happy when I tell her she was right.”

He walks past Rey as she watches him with bemused eyes. “Right about—”

“He’ll be happy to see ya, kid.” Han is still smiling as he waves at her. She watches him until he disappears down the adjacent hall.

When Rey looks back towards Ben’s room, she feels a newfound surge of confidence that pushes her legs towards his door. It’s slightly ajar when she passes the threshold. With a shaking hand, she reaches out to push the door slowly open. 

Ben is sitting there in the armchair. He almost resembles a rabbit spooked, sitting up in the chair on high alert.

“I could hear your footsteps from down the hall,” he says in barely above a whisper. His hands grip the bulbous ends of the armchair with a vice-like grip. 

She stares at him as she walks further into the room. “I met your father out there, just now,” she murmurs. The words she’d gone over and over in her head while in the car suddenly seem very far away. All of a sudden, she feels shy.

Ben nods imperceptibly. “I called him. He’s…one of the many people I have to apologize to.”

His response flicks an angry spark inside of Rey. Her brows furrow. “And what about me? Were you ever going to apologize to me?”

She watches as Ben swallows. “Rey…”

“No, a few weeks ago, you seemed just fine letting me walk away, and that being the end of it. But—don’t _I_ deserve an apology? Bloody hell Ben, that’s all you went on about the last time. That I didn’t deserve _you?_ I guess I didn’t deserve closure either?”

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, and with a bravado that sounds like he means it, but it only stokes the fire.

Rey has never felt so— _pissed off_. She can count on one hand the number of real fights she’s had, the kind where she’s gotten so mad that she’s feral. For so long, she has been the more complacent one in the argument. 

But it’s now or never. Rey has something to say to him. She has a lot of things to say to him. 

“Apology not accepted,” she sputters, and maybe it’s the emotion in her voice that makes his head snap over to her. “You—you gave me a whole speech about how you didn’t deserve me, how you never would—because you refused to acknowledge that you had changed, that you were becoming a better person. Well, what the hell Ben?”

He looks conflicted as he glances towards her. “I guess I thought, if I had a chance with you, that I’d have to do the work on my own first. I had to become a better man, someone worthy of you.”

Rey stares at him. “That is such… _bullshit_! Why are you so adamant to do this on your own? Why have you put me on this pedestal like I’m some sort of symbol of perfection? I’m not a perfect person, Ben. I’m not someone in need of rescue. Your past, the darkness, the demons, why can’t you let me help you fight them? You don’t have to go through this—any of this—alone.”

She walks further into the room. His head follows her every move as she goes around the couch to stand in front of him. Screw whatever it was she'd planned to say. All plans and preparations have currently flown out the window. He wanted the truth, well she was going to give it to him. She was going to tell him _exactly_ how she bloody feels.

“You asked me the last time what reason I had for why you deserve me. Well, I think we deserve each other. We deserve the chance to work through this _together._ How could we ever find our happily ever after, if we don’t give ourselves the chance to discover why it’s worth it?

“Look, I LOVE words,” Rey exclaims. She feels like her heart is beating in her throat. The syllables feel impossible to spit out. “I _love_ words. They might be my favorite thing. I love them so much so, that…they were the ones to tuck me in bed at night, they were the ones who told me everything was going to be fine, even when there was nothing to eat or when my foster parents would fight…and things would break—but I never did, because I had my books to take me away from the nightmares. 

They were the ones who urged me to get out of that horrible place. They were the ones who inspired me to do _more_. They were there for me when I left the UK and decided I was going to start my life again. They were the ones to tell me it wasn’t going to be so terrifying. They’ve been there for me through everything, they’ve been my sole companion and…”

She stops, her blabbering making her winded. She has half a mind of where she’s going with any of this. None of the things she said were ‘I love you’ or ‘You’re a prick'—no, in fact, she was yammering on about bloody _words_ and her love of books.

There was a point to all of this. Wasn't there?

“…and I used to believe, on paper, that they were the only thing in this world that made sense.” She looks at him, her chest heaving as she watches the way his lips tremble. “They were always there for me. I struggled for most of my life, unable to articulate how I feel, unable to process my own emotions. In a way, I thought going into therapy and helping others through their trauma was the solution for helping me through mine. Because as much as I love words, as well as I can understand them, I’m total shite at using them.

“But then I met you, and you’re so incredible with words. Sometimes I wonder if you were made for me because, for all that I lack in defining myself, you could do it like it was something easier than _breathing_. You knew that part of me that I never was able to express. You understand me—maybe better than I understand me…” Her voice trails off as Rey yells at herself internally to just _Say. What. She. Bloody. Means._

“But you helped me understand _them_ , use words in a way I never have before. You’ve had it in your head that I’ve been the only one helping you get through your past—your accident. But how could you not realize that I needed your help just as much? We aren’t perfect, Ben. We are human, and we are allowed to love and be loved even when we make mistakes.” She blinks the tears away, and they fall with a steady rhythm down her cheeks. Rey’s chest feels like it’s been sliced wide open, her heart bared on display just for him. “How else would we know that it is worth fighting for if we had no hope?”

Her steps echo against the hardwood floor before they soften when she steps onto the carpet. He seems aware of her nearness. He reacts almost imperceptibly as she slowly gets closer. It’s just there, a small twitch of his lips. For once he’s the one left frozen by _her_ words.

“I think I’ve been surviving through life with my nose in a book for too long,” she says, and she stops almost two feet away from him. “I think I’ve been a right idiot. I think even with my sight there were things I could never really see—things I refused to see. I was living in a world of fiction and fairytales because I didn’t think real life was worth being a part of most times.” Her words are a breath, low and trembling with emotion. “But if I could have just seen what was right in front of me, seen what was far more worthwhile than those dreams,” she shakes her head, and a tear flies from her cheek. Her hand reaches out in front of him, but she stops before she can touch him. “Maybe I wouldn’t have stayed silent for so long.

“If it’s about what we deserve, then you deserve to take this second chance and be happy. I think you deserve to be loved. Even though I didn’t know you before the accident, I know you now—and the Ben Solo I know now _is_ trying to right his wrongs. I’ve seen it with your mother—and now your father. You aren’t irredeemable, and I don’t want to wait for you to decide when you are—redeemed that is.”

She watches him, watches the way his lips part open in bewilderment, watches the way uncertainty keeps him from reaching out to her. 

Ben breathes a large inhale, his shoulders rising to his ears. She kneels before him, barely a hair's breadth away. When she looks up, she sees his beautiful auburn eyes shining down on her. 

“Because this _is_ real, Ben. I’m real, and I’m telling you that in this reality, I want you, every single part of you. Because I think it’s what _I_ deserve.”

He doesn’t say anything yet. Perhaps she overwhelmed him too much. Perhaps he finally understood the feeling of being wanted.

Perhaps she found the words that finally got through to him.

Rey takes a deep, shivering breath, “in this reality, there is a man, and he can’t see, but he is kind, and he is _good_ —and a right prick most times—but I think that he loves me.”

Her eyes twitch as she watches a sob wrench from his lips. His whole body is shaking. She swears she can feel his emotion through his eyes searching her own. He’s staring right at her, right into her soul. 

Rey feels seen.

Her trembling fingers reach out, and she’s about to lightly graze his chest. Almost as if he can feel her there, Ben inhales shakily, and his hand instantly rises to catch her own. In that next instant, she is in his arms. 

They are kneeling on the floor. Ben’s body covers hers almost entirely. Rey is engulfed by his warmth. More tears stream down her face as she cries into his chest. “And I know I love him too,” she gasps as he holds her tighter. 

“I’m so sorry. Rey, I’m sorry,” his voice warbles against her hair. His embrace is so tight it’s almost difficult to breathe. “I never wanted to hurt you, that’s all—that’s—”

She nods into his t-shirt. Her tears stain the soft cotton against her cheek.

The air is thick with the sounds of their cries, with shuddering words and promises triumphant over despair. 

Everything will be alright. 

Rey’s watery smile curls against his chest. 

“I know. I’ve already forgiven you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3) :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s so crazy that we’re here. This was the longest, most thought out fic I’ve written yet, and it’s been my baby for a lot of personal milestones as a writer.
> 
> I have been sitting and tweaking and overthinking this epilogue for some time now, but enough overthinking, just gotta post. I hope this ending gives you all good feels for our two idiots. I’m not sure if there can be a perfect ending, just like real life, but I think this gets pretty close to it. Maybe it’s cheesy, maybe it’s lovely, maybe it’s just right or it isn’t—why are endings so hard???
> 
> I want to thank Denzer for her help with fleshing out the cheeky dialogue between Hux and Ben here, and Rush for being such an amazing beta and boosting me through the tough parts of this story. I’m so very grateful to you, you amazing person you 😭💕
> 
> And THANK YOU to everyone who has enjoyed, kudos’d and commented on this story. I don’t think this story would be what it is without all of your support. I love you all and your positivity so much 🥰
> 
> Writing a character with a disability has been an emotional, challenging, and insightful experience. I hope that this Ben has respected this topic and that I have not done him or anyone an injustice. All of these characters in this fic hold a special place in my heart—and Rey, ever my champion girl—I have so loved going on this journey with her. ❤️
> 
> I’ll stop babbling now, even though I’m beyond stoked to share the final piece with you from a slightly different perspective...

_… About 3 Months Later ..._

Ben is in heaven.

Or—he’s pretty sure this is as close as he’ll ever get.

“Ah— _Ben!_ ” He hears her gasp crisply over the sheet as he lays beneath it. His cheeks brush against soft, delicious skin as he mouths hungrily at Rey’s cunt.

Her legs try to clamp shut as his mouth begins to move up and down in a rhythmic motion—a technique he learned made her go crazy after some practice. His upper lip nudges against her clit with each unhinging of his jaw, and she starts to make a high-pitched squealing sound.

“ _Unh,_ I can’t…not again…” she sounds pained with pleasure as she squirms under him. Ben holds her legs open in a vice as he groans against her center.

The vibrations in his throat say encouragingly, “Y _es you can, baby._ ”

Her mound is soaked as he slides his face against it, wetness dripping down his chin. An aroma of sweetness assaults his senses. Ben thinks he could spend forever right here, face shoved between Rey’s legs.

He feels her folds contract against his tongue as he pushes into her wet heat. One of his hands holding down her thigh moves, so that he’s now holding her down with his elbow, and his long, knuckled fingers slide inside her with ease.

Rey’s hips lift off the bed, and her cunt squeezes his fingers.

_Yes, baby, come for me_.

She makes a garbled sound in the back of her throat, and all it takes is for him to curl them slightly up and towards his nose, probing at her curls, and then she’s convulsing around him.

Ben can’t help the groan that rumbles against her clit as she comes undone around him with a choked sigh.

Yes, this is heaven.

“Ben, _please…_ ”

He detaches his lips with a smack. Rey's body jolts when his fingers suddenly pull out of her. He burrows his way out from underneath the sheets. His lips leave a wet trail in their wake as he traces kisses her from her mound, up her stomach, against her breasts, along the column of her neck, and up some more, until he’s found her lips.

Ben mixes the tastes of her, reveling in the combination that stokes his desire for her. He will never get enough of this, of her.

Her legs wrap around his hips as he settles between them, his erection rubs against the mess he made of her.

With a grunt, he grabs his cock and lines it up before he pushes inside with ease. She’s snug around him, and her pussy welcomes him as he burrows to the hilt.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ben groans as he feels her contract around him. She’s _so_ wet, she’s always so wet. He thrusts into her, and her moan is muffled behind closed lips. His hand reaches up in defiance and presses against her mouth, opening it. He wants her to scream.

He pulls back, and when he trusts again, harder this time, the sound that falls out of her mouth is a hitched gasp.

There will never be a day when Ben will take fucking Rey for granted. In all honesty, there will never be a day when he takes her for granted, _period_.

He holds her pleasure in his hands, against his mouth, and around his heart. He can sense every reaction from her. He knows how she’s feeling by the way she sounds, by the way she breathes, by the way she shakes. He will never get enough of how delicious she tastes. He is so wholly aware of her, of everything about her, and every day he makes it his sole mission in life to learn one new thing about her—to show her one more way he can love her.

Because he does. He fucking loves her—has since she walked through his door that first day. He just never thought he would be lucky enough to have her.

And he’s never going to take that for granted either, not ever.

He pushes up onto his knees and grabs both of her hips, lifting her with him. Using his grip on her hips, he pushes her body slightly away, dragging her sopping cunt against his shaft before he slams her against his hips with a yank of his biceps. His cock thrusts deeper inside of her, and Rey’s moan hiccups in her throat.

As he slowly straightens his back, the draped sheet falls away from him. The air in the room is thick with the smell of sex and sweat. He inhales the scent deeply. She’s gotten much wetter—if that were even possible. He knows her orgasm is near—and he knows just how to give it to her.

“You’re going to come for me one more time, baby.” He pulls her hips against him slowly this time, and just as deep. Her fingernails dig into the sheets beneath her for dear life. He feels the smooth fabric pull where his knees are planted, feels how desperate she is.

Every time. It’s his sole mission to give her euphoria every fucking time.

She clenches around him after another deep stroke, and he knows she’s close. He quickens up his pace, no longer drawing his cock so far out of her, and instead, he falls forward grinding his hips into her with fast and shorter strokes. The head of his cock slips against that sweet spot inside her and the noises she’s making build in crescendo.

“ _Ben…_ ”

He grunts against her neck as his back hunches with his movement. His arms move down to wind around her back and hold her flush against his body, touching as much of their skin together as he can.

The sweat on their skin has his thighs sliding against hers with each jut of his hips. “Come on, baby, one more time.” His lips nibbled at the skin at her neck right below her ear. “One more time, and then I’m going to fill you up.”

Rey’s next moan is drawn out as it wails into the room along with the strong clench of her pussy. She’s almost there, just a little bit more. His pelvic bone presses against her clit with each slam of his hips, and it’s the perfect amount of pressure for how sensitive she is.

When she comes, her hips start thrashing against his, spasming along with the pleasure coursing through her body. Ben holds her to him for dear life. Her body is tense within the confines of his arms. He feels the steady pulse of her cunt throbbing around him, and with a strangled groan and one final thrust, he buries himself as deep as he can go. He can feel the way his cock spurts his cum in time with her twitching muscles as she milks him dry. A shiver rushes down his spine as his pleasure shoots from him and settles in her.

He stays there lodged inside of her. His shoulders shudder in satisfaction as his cock finishes pumping his cum so far up inside that he knows it will be slowly oozing out of her throughout the day.

Ben finds himself preening at the thought. He nudges his hips against hers, imagines his cock pushing that cum even further inside. Maybe later, when he pulls her close and nudges his leg between hers, he’ll feel this mess dripping against his thigh, maybe promise to replenish what was lost...

“Bloody hell,” Rey swears as she tries to catch her breath. “I don’t think I can move for the rest of the day. That’s going to be a bit of a problem.”

He huffs a laugh into her neck before he presses his lips against the skin there and suckles.

“Ah—Ben, I’m serious. I don’t think I can feel my legs.” They twitch around him like she is trying to test them out to make sure they still work.

Fucking Rey until she isn’t sure she can walk, _check_.

She pushes at his shoulders, and he rolls off her, relenting. A sigh escapes him as he pulls out of her warmth, and he knows, broodingly, his cock isn’t the only one that misses it.

He drags her into his arms not a moment later and kisses her temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you. I’ll be your own personal walking stick.” He waggles his eyes at her and jumps when she pinches his side. “Hey!”

“You're terrible.” He knows she’s smiling at him. “But I don’t see how you can help me. _You_ have a job to do.”

Ben mocks annoyance. “Ack, I almost forgot about that.”

“I’m sure you did.” 

Ben tucks her back against his chest, and his fingers press into her sides, making her squeal. He always found her sarcastic replies to be so endearing. “Maz can be very demanding.”

“I think she thinks of you as the son she never had,” Rey says cheekily, and Ben wouldn’t outright admit it, but something about hearing that made a softness settle in his chest.

“How much time do we have?”

Rey turns and leans over to presumably get her phone. “Two hours,” she says, “and _don’t_ even think about it.”

Ben molds his face into one of confusion. “Think about what?” He asks innocently.

And suddenly, she’s rolling out of his arms before he can stop her. “That’s enough from you! I have to get out of this bed before you actually incapacitate me.”

He hears her shuffle around the room, and he knows he must look devilishly conniving by the way she throws his shirt in his face. He laughs into the cotton, and the image of her little reluctant smile flashes before him as he flops back down on the bed.

-

Ben feels a tug at his elbow. He bends down slightly and asks, “What is it?”

Maz snorts quietly. “I was about to ask you if my hat was on alright, but…” he can hear her cackling softly beside him.

“I can check.” Ben straightens and attempts to lift his arm.

“Don’t you DARE touch it!” Maz scolds, and she yanks his arm back down beside him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The music starts to play. “You better not walk us into a bush, Ben Solo,” Maz grates.

Ben smirks. “Don’t worry, Rey would never let me hear the end of it.”

“And how are you and Rey, hm?” Maz asks as Ben begins the very slow descent down the stairs of the veranda, and into the gardens that have been decorated for the ceremony. Ben’s nose crinkles at the overly pungent aroma of flowers that hits him as they walk down the limestone pathway. Of course, his mother would overdo it.

He just has to walk straight, and Maz has her cane just in case, but if this wasn’t one of the more stress-inducing tasks he’s ever had to complete—he would be a fucking liar. Getting Maz down the aisle in one piece was just the tip of the iceberg of favors he owes her.

“I have to concentrate. A bush could come out of nowhere.”

Maz just snickers beside him, and he can tell she’s shaking her head by the way her hair brushes beside his elbow. It’s the end of August in Maryland, and it’s unseasonably dry. It still makes the vest Maz made him wear feel stifling over his button-down shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, but he’s sure he’s still perspiring.

But, and it was just another thing to probably thank Maz for, Rey did say he looked _“rather fit”,_ and he knew enough British slang to determine that to be a good thing.

And he can’t blame it entirely on the heat. But being here to witness Maz and Chewie tie the knot had his mind lost in a sea of ideas.

His toe nudges a carpet on top of the stone, and he stops walking.

Another voice rings out once the music dies down. “Who presents this woman to be married to this man?”

Ben nods towards his father. “I do.”

“Like he actually has a say,” Maz croons from beside Ben, and there are a few chuckles behind them.

Ben bends down to kiss Maz’s hand, and she whispers up at him, “remember what I told you that day when you left us at Ajan Kloss? Well, this is that moment for me.”

There’s something in her voice that makes it hard for Ben to school his features. Maz pats his hand before she begins to step forward, and suddenly there is another, very familiar hand that slips into his own before pulling him to the side.

Once he’s seated, Han begins to recite the traditional ceremony script.

He listens to the vows that float around them that promise now, and forever, and always, and it has him gripping Rey’s hand just a little tighter. She squeezes his palm, and he lifts her fingers to his lips, kissing each one.

He holds her hand until the ‘I dos’ are said and is reluctant to let go even after they make their way back up to the veranda for the celebration to follow.

He hadn't planned to do this tonight, but he couldn’t wait any longer. The anticipation wriggles inside of him and doesn’t quit, even as Rey squeezes his hand twice more before letting go to hug Maz.

-

“So, Rey, when do you start shadowing Dr. Holdo?” Rose asks as they sit around the large table. Their plates have been cleared, but the wine is still flowing.

Ben idly sips at his cup of coffee. 

“I start the first week of September,” Rey replies, and Ben can sense the nerves in her undertone.

Rose sounds like she’s pouting. “I’m so happy for you, but we’re going to miss your frequent visits.”

Rey laughs softly. “Who says I’m stopping those? I’ll be around, don’t worry. I still have to chauffeur this bloke for his weekly meetings.” Ben feels Rey’s hand reach out and tug his ear. In a flash, he grabs it, twining their fingers together. He feels said ears flush under his hair. The urge to kiss her senseless around all of these people almost too strong to repress.

“Meetings?” Rose asks.

Ben feels the pad of Rey’s thumb begin to rub small circles around the knuckle at his own. “Yeah, Ben’s going to be doing some volunteering there. Right now, it’s a few AA meetings, but they’re thinking of starting a seminar for troubled youths,” she pauses, and he knows she’s looking at him. He imagines that look. Her eyes glancing over at him with bashful pride. He catches her thumb in a trap under his own, a warning gesture, and her hand jerks. _Fuck_ , she’s going to tell them. There goes his aura of cool mystery. 

Her fingers squeeze his palm, almost like she’s asking for permission, but there’s really nothing in the world he wouldn’t give her. Even if it meant letting her embarrass him in front of her friends. He releases her thumb and twines their fingers together.

Rey clears her throat before she continues. “He’s going to talk about his past, about making better choices. He wants them to know that they aren’t alone out there, that he’s there to listen. I think Ben will be a great mentor to many of those kids.”

“Wow, that’s great, Ben. I can totally see you as a motivational speaker one day. Helping those who have lost their way. Gosh, the two of you are like the super duo for trauma recovery,” Rose marvels.

“Oh, certainly.” It’s Hux who responds beside Rose. “You know Rey, I might require some counseling. A recent patient of mine really put me through the wringer.”

Ben frowns as he remembers why his obnoxious ex-caretaker is even there. Irritation rumbles in his chest. He couldn’t stand the fucker sometimes, especially if he is mocking him at his girls’ expense. Ben feels Rey’s other hand slide comfortingly across his thigh. Rey gives it a gentle, knowing squeeze.

Even so, it doesn’t prevent him from saying with a little _too_ much snark, “Yeah, well, if you were looking to see a therapist, you wouldn’t be able to afford her.”

“I have a good bit saved up from a recent babysitting gig. My services were no longer needed once the little gremlin learned how to wipe his ars—”

“Okay, okay, boys!” Rose pipes up in a warning tone, and Ben hears Hux gasp. He hopes Rose punched him right in the—“We are all having a very pleasant dinner right now.”

“Rosie, don’t cut the fun short,” Kaydel chirps from across the table.

Hux doesn’t continue, which prompts Ben to slide one last dig into the conversation. “Whipped.”

Rey smacks his thigh. “Ben…”

“Takes one to know one—What?” Rose is saying something quietly and in a hushed tone. To Ben’s delight, it sounds like she’s scolding him. “Them’s fightin’ words, babe.”

Ben is smirking as Rey pinches his thigh _hard_. He’s not sure if she realizes how much of a turn on it is when he makes her cross, and he’s about to tell her, but then in the next second, Rey’s hand is gone. His lips press together as his chin tilts up to follow her movements. His focus is solely on her and the loss of her touch. She’s getting up from her chair. His hand instinctively reaches up to touch her, to keep her close.

“Rey, this was lovely of you to put together.” It’s Jyn, and from the sound of it, they’re hugging. “You know, there may be another one to look forward to fairly soon.”

Rey’s shocked gasp makes Ben’s attention perk up. “What, really?” Cassian chuckles somewhere to Ben’s right. “That’s amazing, you guys.” More hugs are shared.

“I think all that reading carved a sensitive spot in Ben Solo’s heart.” He hears Jyn say above him with amusement. “I could have sworn I saw a tear when you gave Maz away.”

Ben shrugs. “Any sensitivity you saw is because it has been forced on me.”

“Rey is a force I’ll gladly welcome,” his mother’s voice wafts over the conversation. “I’ll have Threepio bring your car around front.” She’s speaking to Cassian.

It’s strange to explain, and Ben is sure unless he was speaking to another blind person, they just might not get it. He has a hyperawareness when it comes to Rey. He just _knows_ where she is in the room. He can sense her nearness like an incoming feeling, like an expectation. Her presence is the only one he wants to focus on. 

When he holds one part of her, be it her hand, her elbow, her neck, or her shoulders, he could map the rest of her out better than any cartographer.

And even though he doesn’t know what she _actually_ looks like, he still sees her in the dark. It’s just the shape of her, solid and clear, but it’s her smile that he pictures more than anything else.

It’s become something quite precious to him, something he’s only wanted to share with her.

Ben reaches for her hand and brings her attention back to him. He’s waited long enough.

“Can I show you something?” He asks softly so only she can hear.

She squeezes his hand gently, and it prompts him to scoot his chair out. He leads them towards the house when the familiar scent of motor oil, citrus, and cigars hits his nose.

“You kids skipping out early?” There’s humor in his father’s voice as he meets them in the doorway. The whiskey on his breath wafts into Ben’s nose. He pushes away the unsettled feeling that aroma brings to his stomach. “I think the party’s about to liven up—hey, you know that guy Chewie? Reminds me of an old friend.”

“I just have to talk to Rey about something.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out harsh, but even he’s aware of the bite in his tone.

He can sense Rey’s face at his shoulder. “We’ll be right back, promise.”

“I have the feeling if you take too long, you’ll have them to deal with.” And Ben can just envision his father, standing there with his thumb jutting towards the uproarious laughter coming from behind them with his lips twisted in a smirk. “See y—ah shit... you know what I mean.” He feels a hand slap down on his shoulder, and Han chuckles as he walks past them and back onto the veranda. 

With only the afterthought of calling out to him with, _“Good effort”,_ Ben tugs Rey along behind him towards his room.

“What’s going on, Ben?” Rey asks in light spirits as they walk past the doorway.

When he turns around and plants a kiss square on her mouth, she makes an _‘mmph’_ sound, and she’s laughing as she pulls away.

“Did you seriously just pull me in here to snog?”

“I want to give you something, and I might go insane if I don’t give it to you now.”

He lets go of her hands and walks towards his desk by the window. “Alright,” she says, and he can hear the lower decibel of her tone, her humor now quieted, more serious.

Ben opens the drawer and finds the journal tucked away there. He pulls it out and spins around to face her. He walks over to her and feels her breath exhale across his face as he reaches down to take her hand.

“It’s something I’ve been working on, but I wanted you to be the first to see it.” He leads them over to the couch and sits before he opens the notebook and pulls out the loose piece of paper. He holds it out to her, and he wills every nerve in his body to remain steady as he waits for her to take it.

He hears her soft inhalation as she presumably looks at what he is holding, and suddenly it feels harder to breathe. “The pencil sharpener I had was fucking shit plastic, but I needed it sharp to feel the lines...and it’s probably total shit, even if I’ve been practicing, and it’s not like I really asked anyone it was any good or if it was closer to a Picasso—and fuckers love that abstract shit, even though, you know, he started out as a traditionalist just like the rest of them…”

Ben stops as he realizes he’s babbling, and it’s a startling realization because Ben Solo did _not_ fucking babble. 

After that concern fades to silence, he’s able to hear the unevenness in her breathing. She’s so quiet he finds it unnerving as he waits for a response. His lips roll against each other anxiously. Was it so terrible she actually couldn’t find the words?

“Ben...” it sounds like she’s crying, and he _thinks_ they are tears of joy, but he isn’t really sure, and his heart is beating so hard, and so loud in his ears. It’s hard to concentrate.

“Maybe it’s like _Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler_ , or maybe it looks like a person, but it’s my poorest imitation of you, and it’s the only thing I’ve wanted to draw since—since _all of this_.” He might be crying too because she has to know, she has to know that she is the only thing in his entire world that makes sense. She has to know that if it weren’t for her, he would have been lost from the moment he ran that fucking red light. He would have been lost forever.

“And you were the one to tell me that I shouldn’t give up on art just because of what happened. I want to try to…evolve it. I don’t know—”

He’s stopped talking because she’s leaned forward and is now kissing him. The way it soothes him like nothing else can, almost as much as her touch alone.

When she pulls away, she’s the one babbling words. “It’s incredible, Ben. Exquisite. I—I can’t believe this is who you see when you think of me. She’s beautiful, she—”

“She’s nothing compared to the real you.”

He feels her hand rest against his face, her thumb trailing down his faded scar, and he closes his eyes. He moves to kneel on the floor in front of her. He reaches for one of her hands on her lap. His chest flutters every time her slim fingers intertwine with his.

“I used to be terrified of forgetting my sight—what I’ve seen, what I can remember. I kept thinking all the memories I had would someday fade to black. Some of them had for a while.” Ben swallows, and he pulls her hand to his lips, and he traces the shape of her knuckles with a smattering of kisses. “But it’s a weird thing—memory. When you started reading those books to me, I could envision new things, I—I forgot that even without my sight, I still had my imagination. Some things I could see even more clearly than before if that even makes sense. I don’t know.”

Ben turns her hand over and kisses the center of her palm. “Throughout my recovery, I kept hoping for my sight back. I wanted it back so badly because I kept thinking that I just needed to see you, _just once._ If I had that, then you would be in my memory forever—and even if you were no longer in my life, you would always be here,” he presses her palm against his chest before he drags it slowly up to his temple. He opens his eyes again, and whispers, “and here.”

Her hand is trembling in his, so small, yet so strong.

“I convinced myself I would be okay, as long as I had that.”

“Ben—”

He shakes his head quickly against her before he pulls her curled fingers back towards his mouth. He kisses the back of her hand solidly. His plush lips press against her skin, so smooth and inviting. He inhales, and he smells melted chocolate and the mild aroma of flowers—he isn’t sure what kind. His mouth waters as he imagines the sweetness. “But I realize now, none of that really matters. I don’t need the vision of you to be okay. I already have every part of you that I need.” He pushes her legs apart so that he can get closer to her.

The space between her thighs is warm, and there is a slit in her dress that allows her legs to part wide enough for his enormous torso to wedge between them. He lets go of her hand, and his fall to rest on top of her knees before they push forward against her thighs, and he encircles each one in a steady grip.

“I’m not afraid anymore, Rey,” he says softly, and he reaches up achingly slow. He can feel her breath against his cheek, can feel the closeness of her lips like there is an invisible string, an unseeable _force_ keeping them tethered, always. 

In the greying shadows that he sees, his eyes look straight forward towards a darker shape he can just make out. From there it is easy to envision her lips. He imagines them smiling softly at him—waiting for him. His eyes trace along her perfect cupid's bow before his viewpoint widens, and her dimples appear.

He can see her there. His beautiful girl.

Ben continues to lean forward, and his nose always reaches her first. He nuzzles the tip of his nose against her bridge. When he brushes against her lips, he closes his eyes again. He feels her sigh as her mouth falls open against his. 

“I’m not scared of never getting the chance to see you, not anymore. For the first time in my life, I want to see what my future will bring. And I want to ask you something—” he feels a pressure expand in his throat. When he swallows, a small sob escapes his lips and pushes against hers. Her lips part, and it’s like she’s taking it from him—she’s taking his fear away.

“Rey,” he says her name, and it feels like a hundred butterflies erupting in his stomach. “I wouldn’t be... _anything_ without you. When I told you once that all I wanted was my sight back. When I said you couldn’t give it to me, that couldn’t have been further from the truth.” His hands cannot decide where to touch her. He wishes he could touch her everywhere, all at once. 

That’s how it feels sometimes when she touches him. He lets it spread throughout his whole body, lets his every atom vibrate to the drum of _her_. His hands lift from her thighs, and then he’s cradling her neck, tilting her head towards his. He feels her eyelids flutter against his thumbs. 

“I would still be walking through life with my eyes fucking sealed shut if I didn’t have you there to show me…if you didn’t come back. If you had listened to a single fucking stupid thing I’ve ever said, and given up on me like everyone else had.

“Months ago, when I was too terrified to believe it, Maz told me you were my destiny…” he murmurs, and he hears her gasp slightly at that, her hands come out and grasp his wrists. Her grip is tight. “She told me I was an idiot if I didn’t make a move, and she said I wouldn't have much of a chance with you if I never did. She said there would come a time for me to get my fucking life straight _,_ and when that moment came, it wouldn't matter if I was ready for it. It would still happen anyway, and _either you’re there to catch the train or you let it pass you by_. _Maybe there would be another one, or maybe it’s 3 a.m. in Bushwick._ ”

Rey’s laugh is sputtering as it breaks the seriousness in the room. “I can only imagine how that story turned out.”

“I’d...rather not repeat it,” and he hears her laugh again, making his chest swell with ease. He brushes his thumb against her temple, pushing a stray curl away and behind her ear. “She told me my chance of happiness was right there in front of me, but only if I was brave enough to take it.”

Rey is shaking as she whispers, “that sounds like Maz, and she told me that too.” Her hands move to cradle his face in return. “She told me you were my destiny. She’s like our bloody fairy godmother,” she’s laughing through her tears as they now fall freely down her face. His thumb brushes up to wipe them away. He feels the wetness pooling at the brims of his eyes too.

One more thing to add to the already long list of thanks he owes to Maz.

“But I do believe it now, I always did—or I always hoped. And somehow, destiny decided to give me a few chances not to fuck it up. I hoped that one day I would get to ask you this. I knew—probably since that day when you came back after I was such a fucking dick to you. When you gave me a chance. I knew I wanted to be the man deserving of more of those chances.”

He feels her lean forward, both of her hands now gripping his wrists with earnestness. “You are deserving, Ben,” she sighs. “You deserve everything.” She breathes in shakily. “Now ask me.”

Ben swallows the lump in his throat. His nerves getting the best of him. “You brought color into my world—a thousand different hues I’d never seen before. The darkness never feels so consuming when I have you there to guide me through it. Even without seeing, everything in my world is in a whole new light—because of you. And I want to share it with you. I hope you will let me show it to you—all of it.”

Ben tilts his chin up further so he can get closer.

“I want to paint the rest of my life with the hues of you,” he murmurs against her lips. He still doesn’t feel ready for it, but as his heart drops into his stomach, he asks, “Will you be a part of it with me, forever?”

He feels her breath hitch into his kiss. “No one has ever asked me for forever before.” Her hands clasp around the side of his head, encasing him within her grasp. Her thumbs brush against his cheeks before pressing against the corners of his mouth now pulled wide in a smile. His dimples relax, and it’s the best feeling, how easily she can soothe him.

“I know.”

She sniffs, chuckling softly, and her hands are shaking as they hold his face. “Well, I can’t imagine forever without you.”

And then she’s kissing him like they’re sealing the deal. Her lips press against his with assurance, and he feels so weightless he could float.

Ben decides _this_ is how it feels to finally leave loneliness behind him. He decides it will be a memory easily forgotten.

He pulls away from her lips suddenly. “I don’t have a ring…”

“Should I take it back? After all that, you’d really make me wait?” She’s teasing him, and her smile presses assuredly against his thumb. 

The elation he feels from her settles into his chest. “I assumed you would say yes. They told me you would, and I trust my source. They are never wrong,” he says with his usual confidence as he gathers her from the couch and pulls her down into his lap.

There’s glee laced in her laugh as she nestles against him. “Oh really? Rather cocky of you, of the both of you, though I suppose with all your talk about destiny I shouldn’t be too surprised...” He’s caught off guard when her lips move swiftly and press against his. Her touch is trilling with happiness, and he feels the _zing_ when their lips connect. It’s a soft peck, and then she’s pulling away enough to add cheekily, “and just who was this enabler that told you I would say yes? Our fairy godmother?”

And Ben can’t help the smirk as it lifts to the corner of his mouth. Except, it doesn’t stay a smirk for long. No, Ben is pretty sure it’s a full-blown smile.

Sometimes she really does make it _too easy_.

He’s still grinning as he shakes his head and says, “No, actually, it was my psychic— _Ow_...I mean, _therapist.”_

“Prick,” she whispers across his face. 

And he’s sure the smile he sees in the dark, the one he knows reflects on his face, is the most brilliant one yet.

“Your prick, forever.” He feels her hands back on his face, caressing the corners of his eyes. “Hope you know what you’re signing up for.”

He feels Rey exhale softly through her nose. “I do,” and it sounds like she’s speaking to him through a watery smile.

Ben shivers under her. The weight of the whole fucking universe suddenly feels a whole lot lighter.

His eyes slide shut as he leans forward to kiss her, and he thinks the darkness isn’t so terrifying.

Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this I found myself wondering: How many ways can Ben Solo say I love you without saying I love you? —It turns out a whole lotta ways 🙂
> 
> I can’t thank any of you enough for making it to this end note and for reading. ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please check out some of my other works and [subscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anopendoor/works) for any upcoming fics!
> 
> I have an a/b/o in the works 😬
> 
> I am on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3)


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